Heart of the Phoenix
by smaugholmeswatson
Summary: Imagine discovering your best friend is a Phoenix shape-shifter and that there is a dangerous criminal determined to claim him as a pet. This is the situation John finds himself in when an explosive meeting with Moriarty forces Sherlock to reveal his secret. Of course the course of true love never runs smoothly, especially when Moriarty decides to throw a spanner in the works...
1. Chapter 1

The dead body is the least of our worries. Now that I can even technically call it a body since it is scattered around in so many tiny little peices. My stomach churns and I have to swallow down the bile which is trying to rise up my throat. If I throw up at this crime scene I know Lestrade will never let me live it down. As he walks past Anderson gives me a smug smile. I ignore him and concentrate on weaving my way through the crowds of policemen towards where Lestrade and Sherlock are standing beside the worst of the mess. As I get closer I am able to smell the gut wrenching stench emanating from the week old body but take a deep breath and pretend that it isn't there as I eavesdrop on Lestrade and Sherlock's conversation.

"So what are we looking at here? A shape-shifter serial killer?" Lestrade asks with a sigh. He runs a hand across the stubble on his chin. This killing had been the fifth one in just as many days and Lestrade had hardly been home since the first one had been discovered. The extra workload was evident in the dark patches under his eyes and the fact he seems unaffected by the carnage surrounding him.

Sherlock's eyes travel slowly across the ground, searching for any clues he might have missed earlier. Lestrade's question is rather pointless because of course he already, probably I'm just guessing here, has a list of possible suspects. "Of course it's a shape-shifter. This body has been torn apart by something with claws, objects which most normal humans lack. By the length of the marks the shifter is either a wolf or a large cat." He says, his face furrowed with concentration. He looks up when he hears me approaching and gives me a small smile. "Oh good, you're here John. I could use your medical skills because the so called experts on show here are woefully inadequate." He raises his voice enough for Anderson to hear him. Anderson shoots him an angry look but Sherlock ignores him and goes back to examining the crime scene.

Lestrade rolls his eyes. "Be nice Sherlock."

Sherlock doesn't appear to notice that he is being addressed because he is too busy staring at something on the floor. In one smooth movement he kneels, his coat billowing around him, and snaps a pair of latex gloves onto his hands. Lestrade moves to stand beside him and Sherlock moves slightly as though to block his veiw. I frown. What is he up to? From where I am standing I see him pluck something from the ground and slip it into his pocket. Then he stands, causing Lestrade to stumble back a few steps, and begins walking off. He motions for me to follow him. "Come John. I have seen enough."

"Sherlock!" Lestrade steps forward to intercept him. "You can't just leave. I need you here."

Sherlock turns to him. "While I do not doubt that that is the case I need to return to Baker Street in order to fufill a prior appointment I arranged several weeks ago." He explains calmly, ducking under the police tape as he does so.

Hastily I hurried after him. I shiver and pull my jacket more tightly about myself. The temperature is dropping rapidly today and when I look up the sky is heavy with the promise of snow. "Sherlock there wasn't any need to be rude. Lestrade has been working harder than ever trying to solve these murders."

Sherlock snorts and reaches into his pocket, pulling out what appears to be a feather. He holds it out to me. "Well there is no need for him to work so hard because I have already worked out who the culprit is."

Sometimes Sherlock can be really infuriating. I stop on the corner of Upper Montague Street and York Street in order to stare at him in disbelief. It takes him a moment to realise I am no longer following him and is several metres away by the time he actually stops. "Why haven't you told him?" I demand, waving my arms about. "You could have saved him so many late nights." Still Sherlock continues to stare at me with an expression that clearly states he has no idea what he has done wrong. I grip the feather tightly and thrust my hand out towards him. "And not only are you withholding information but you are also removing key evidence from crime scenes?! What has gotten into you lately?"

An unreadable expression passes over his face. Stomping over to me he snatches the feather from my hand and roughly shoves it back into his pocket. "Nothing has gotten into me. I'm completly fine." He snaps, shaking his head to dislodge a lock of hair from his eye. "Go back to the flat John, I'll meet you there later. There is something that I need to do." He says before turning on his heel and vanishing around the corner.

I sigh and rub the bridge of my nose; I can feel a headache coming on. Sherlock has been acting out of character recently and I think that it is time to get to the bottom of it. My mind made up I turn the corner, meaning to follow Sherlock to whereever he is going but find nothing but an empty alleyway. I am not too worried however as I am sure with my army training I will easily be able to follow him through the streets of London. Distracted by finding some sign of where Sherlock went, I at first don't notice the clicking noise behind me or the low growl that accompanies it. Instead all I can think about is the feather that Sherlock found at the crime scene. From the brief glimpse I was able to get I noticed that it was mostly black and white with patches of green and purple irresdence much like the feathers of a magpie. Surely though Sherlock, exceptionally clever as he is, doesn't think a magpie shape-shifter was capable of carrying out such a horrific murder?

The growl comes again and this time I hear it; the sheer fierceness of it freezing me to the spot. Cursing under my breath I cautiously, slowly glance over my shoulder because if it is a predator of some kind I don't want to alarm it with any sudden moves. I prefer my limbs to be attached to my body. Fear clutches at my heart hen I see the animal crouched behind me, blocking off the end of the alleyway. It is a large, and angry looking, Bengal tiger. Panic flares through me and I take a breath in an atempt to calm myself down. In the army we had been trained how to deal with shape-shifters but it is very different when you are alone with one in a place you believed to be safe. The only thing I can bring to mind at the moment is the fact you should never look a predator shifter in the eye if you wanted to live. Hastily I look away from it and the tiger takes a step forward, its muscles rippling beneath its black and orange fur.

"W-wha.." I swallow to try and get rid of the shake in my voice. "What do you want?"

The tiger gives me a smile that is all fang. "All I want John Watson is for you to come with me. There is someone who is dying to meet you." The tiger's voice is distorted but still unmistakably human. It circles me and I turn with it to keep it in sight as there is no way I am turning my back. "Better start walking." He snarls, swiping at my ankle with a paw the size of my head.

I start walking, allowing myself to be herded to whatever destination the tiger has in mind. I can just about see him from the corner of my eye and I feel a shudder run up my spine when his golden eyes meet mine. Cautiously, knowing I am taking a risk, I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, making sure to turn my body so the tiger is unable to see it. Hastily, and as quietly as I can, I compose a text to Sherlock to tell him that I am in danger and that I believe I am in the presence of the shifter who has brutally killed all those people. Finshed I hide the phone again and look round at my surroundings. My mouth falls open with surprise when I see where I am. Without me realising the tiger has herded me onto Baker Street and is currently directing me towards the door of 221 where I share a small flat with Sherlock. I glance back at the tiger for a clue as to why he has decided to come here but he snarls at me, forcing me up the step. Dreading what I might find I open the door. Instead of Mrs Hudson bloody, mutilated body as I feared there is only silence and emptyness. I stop, refusing to go another step.

"Where is Mrs Hudson?" I ask, concerned as to the fate of our landlady.

"Out." replies a soft, lilting vocie from nearby. "I made sure of it."

The softness of the voice after the harsh growl of the tiger is startling. I look up to find its source and there, standing in the shadow at the top of the stairs, is Moriarty. As he moves forward his hair catches the light and I am able to see that there are glossy irredescent streaks running through it, identical to that of the magpie feather Sherlock found at the crime scene. At least I now understand his unease. Moriarty beckons to me and reluctantly I follow, the tiger at my heel. When I draw level with the consulting criminal he steps aside and motions for me to enter 221B.

Once I am standing in the centre of the flats small living area I turn to confront Moriarty, almost but not quite losing my balance when I stumble over a pile of books Sherlock has neglected to shelve. "What do you want Moriarty?" I demand, crossing my arms so he can't see how my hands are shaking. "And I suppose I am right in guessing that you are the one who is behind all those murders."

A sly gleam shines in Moriarty's eyes as he sits down in Sherlock's armchair. I clench my fists, desperatly resisting the urge to drag him out of it. "Of course I'm behind them Johnny Boy. Well technicallly Moran here is the one who actually kills the people I'm just the one who chooses the victim." He says, guesturing towards the tiger pacing behind his chair. "Anyway, I believe it's time we were getting down to business." He continues, holding up a black jacket for my inspection.

My heart skips a beat. I recognise the jacket he is holding up from my days in the army and serving in the middle east where such items where commonly used by the enemy. I grit my teeth. There is no way in hell I am going to let Moriarty put me in that thing! I go to take a step forward and protest but the tiger rears up, places a huge paw on my chest and pushes me down into the chair behind me. I don't try to get up again.

"Careful Johnny Boy. Any more sudden moves and Moran will rip your throat out." Moriarty says with a grin.

I swallow, forcing myself to remain still while Moriarty wraps the bomb jacket around me and secures it tightly. A shudder runs down my spine when, satisfied the jacket is too tight for me to escape from, he runs his fingers across my cheek and chuckles under his breath. "Now John what I want you to do is very simple. I shall be giving you instructions using this earpeice." He holds up the item in question. "And you shall repeat or do anything and everything I say...understand?"

All I want to do is to hurt him but I know that if I so much as reach for him Moran will tear my arm from its socket. From down stairs I hear the faint sound of footsteps. Moriarty's head jerks round so he can hear better. A wicked grin spreads across his face when the footsteps begin to make their way up the stairs. Guesturing for Moran to follow him he disappears into the kitchen leaving me alone in the flat. The footsteps come closer and I tense, knowing they belong to Sherlock. The only reason he is here and in danger is because I sent him that text message. God, if anything happenes to him I will never forgive myself. It is with equal feelings of delight and horror that I see Sherlock walk through the door, his eyes widening when he sees me sitting before him rigged up to a bomb jacket.

"Hello Sherlock, isn't this a nice surprise?" I say, repeating the lines being fed to me by Moriarty. I hear a growl and feel fur brush against my hand. I glance down to find Moran standing beside me, warning Sherlock that any sudden moves or attempts to rescue me would be ill advised. I swallow nervously and look back at Sherlock. I frown, sure I am able to see a spark of orange fire gleaming in his eyes. I shake my head. No, it must only be a trick of the light. "Long time no see Sherly. You know something tells me our meeting is going to go with a bang."

Sherlock grits his teeth. "I know you're here Moriarty. What do you want?" He demands, slowly turning on his heel to inspect every corner of the flat. He doesn't appear alarmed by the massive tiger standing beside me.

I hear Moriarty's voice whisper softly in my ear again. "Why don't we make things more interesting Moran." I repeat, my voice shaking a little despite my best efforts to keep it under control. Moran pads forwards and as he does so he shifts easily into a young, well built man with orange streaked hair and a scar cutting his face cleanly in half. In a single smoooth movement he wraps an arm around my throat and presses the barrel of a gun to the side of my forehead. "Take another step forward Sherly and John's brains will decorate the walls." In my ear Moriarty's voice sounds gleeful.

"As to what I want its really rather simply." says the real Moriarty as he emerges from the kitchen to stand before Sherlock. I half expect Sherlock to react to his appearence but all he does is stare at him with seeming disinterest. "I want you Sherlock. Imagine, the world's only consulting detective as my pet." He crows, circling around Sherlock with measured steps. At one point he reaches out and runs a hand across Sherlock's cheek, laughing when Sherlock flinches away from his touch. "Come now Sherly, don't be like that. It could be fun you know. Think of all the things I could do with a phoenix shape-shifter by my side."

A gasp escapes me. Sherlock...a shape-shifter? It couldn't be possible. "What are you talking about?" I ask at the same times as Sherlock gives voice to a loud snarl and advances on Moriarty.

Moran tightens his grip about my neck and almost cuts off my air supply so I am reduced to strangled gasps as I desperatly try to suck in more air. I hear a click and know the safety has been taken off the gun. I close my eyes. There is a very strong possibility that I could die here today.

"I will never join you Moriarty and if you dare to hurt John I will burn the heart out of you." Sherlock growls, his eyes gleaming a brighter orange. Okay, I definatly wasn't imagining it this time.

Moriarty pouts and throws himself down in the armchair across from me. "Awww don't be like that Sherlock. After all I can burn the heart out of you much more easily than you could ever do to me... isn't that right Moran?"

I feel rather than see Moran nod. Sherlock's eyes narrow and he lets out a humourless laugh. "I have been told on numerous occasions that a heart is the one organ that I don't possess." He says, staring at Moriarty with anger.

Moriarty shakes his head, looking disappointed. "Now we both know that that isn't quite true Sherly because look at how you care for John Watson. I know for a fact that Johnny Boy managed to send you a distress text and you, predictably, came running to his aid." He says with a sly smile that hints of more violence to come. Instead of further threats however Moriarty turns on his heel and starts to head towards the door. He guestures to Moran who reluctantly releases me and walks over to him, shifting back into tiger form as he does so. I gasp loudly, sucking in great lungfuls of air. "Come Moran, lets give Sherly a few days in which to consider what he is being offered; either he becomes my pet or he watches everyone he cares about die. Toodles." He cries. With that he exits the flat and slams the door behind him.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Quickly Sherlock springs into action and before I can say a word to him he has stripped me of the bomb jacket and tossed it into a far corner. Then he kneels before me, places his hands on either side of my face and looks me directly in the eye. "Are you okay John?" He asks, sounding a little frantic despite his calm performance when he was facing Moriarty.

I let out a quiet, nervous laugh prompting a startled look from Sherlock. "Thank goodness no one was around to see you ripping items of clothing off me. They might have gotten the wrong impression."

Sherlock gives me a weak half smile and leans his forehead against mine. "I was so scared I was going to lose you when I burst into the flat and saw you." He murmurs softly. He is quite close to me and his lips are inches away from mine. All I would have to do is lean forward slightly... My train of thought (and any actions that might have followed) is shattered by Moriarty craashing through the door with a wild expression on his face.

"So sorry boys to interrupt your private moment but I got the impression during our little chat that John is ignorant of your secret Sherly. We can't have that now can we? Not when the two of you are such good friends." He says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a gun which he then aims at the bomb jacket . He gives myself and Sherlock a sarcastic wave before he pulls the trigger.

The roar of the bomb exploding is deafening and is accompanied by an intense heat. I cry out and despite it being pointless I throw my arms up to protect myself. However instead of burning heat and pain I feel nothing. Confused I peer over the top of my arms, still wary of the intense heat. What I see takes my breath away. Hovering before me is a human sized phoenix, its golden red wings spread out to protect me from the fierce flames. Without warning the phoenix begins to glow brightly as it absorbs the fire, leaving ash and charred furniture in its wake, and I am forced to shield my eyes from the brilliant golden light. As suddenly as it begun the light dies away and I hear a thud and a rustle of feathers as the phoenix lands beside me. I stare at it and it gazes back with warm orange eyes that are oddly comforting. It appears none the worse for the intense inferno which tore through the flat and shattered windows and melted furnishings. I wince a little. Mrs Hudson is not going to be happy when she arrives home.

"So." I say, my voice calm despite what has just happened. "You're a shape-shifter. Does anyone other than me and Moriarty know?"

The phoenix nods, the orange colour bleeding away from his eyes to be replaced by more familiar shades of grey, green and blue. "Only Mycroft and Lestrade know as well and I would prefer it to remain that way. Solving cases would be difficult if I was to become a celebrity over night." He says, shifting back into human form. The only things to show that anything was out of the ordinary is the tangled mess his hair is in and the streak of blistered burnt skin running down the right side of his face. A concerned look passes across his face. "Are you okay John? I didn't burn you did I?" He asks, his eyes scanning me for signs of injury.

"I'm fine Sherlock." I reassure him, reaching up to lightly stroke the burn on his cheek. Already the injury is beginning to heal and I watch, amazed, as fresh skin grows and knits itself back together. It doesn't appear to be causing Sherlock any discomfort. "How are you healing?" I ask, curious to find out the answer because no normal shape-shifter has that capablilty.

A smile brieftly flashes across his face. "I'm a phoenix shape-shifter John. I don't burst into flames and become reborn like the creatures of legend but I am able to heal myself. So far I know I can heal broken bones, open wounds no matter how bad they are, stitch major ateries back together and even regrow and repair internal organs." He replies smugly. He looks up at me then, obviously wanting to see my reaction to what he has just said.

Leaning forward I rest my forehead against his while still gently stroking my hand against his healing skin. I feel a shudder run through him and move to take my hand away but he presses his hand against mine, looking me in the eye. "Wow." I murmur softly, gazing back into his blue eyes. "My best friend is a shape-shifter." Sherlock's mouth twitches up in a small smile and I have to resist the urge to lean forward and brush my lips against his. A little embaressed by how I am feeling I advert my eyes and clear my throat. "You hide the fact you're a shape-shifter very well. I knew several shifters when I was in the army who still had coloured skin or feathers showing. You on the other hand look totally human."

Sherlock shrugs and leans in closer, a sly grin on his face. "I've learned to conceal my shape-shifter side pretty well so even I am not able to hide it completly. I still have some feathers in an... unusual place." He says with a small uncertain smile. "Also." He continues, holding out his arms so I can see how his veins are glowing with golden light. "This little trick proves very handy at night."

**(Here comes the Johnlock bit. It's my first ever attempt so it probably won't be very good. Please leave criticism or praise to tell me what you think.)**

Sherlock is so close I am able to feel his warm breath on my face. His proximity also allows me to notice how, unlike a humans, Sherlock's skin lets out a pleasant heat. "Are you telling me that you glow in the dark?" I laugh before swallowing hard. It is becoming ever more difficult not to give in to the feelings of desire coursing through me. I wince a little. Damn I'd forgotten how good Sherlock is deducing how people are feeling. He can probably tell exactly how I am feeling towards him right now.

"John?" Sherlock whispers, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. "Are you attracted to me?" He asks, his voice playful. He doesn't wait for me to reply and instead closes the gap between us. His lips are surprisingly soft and press against mine with a sense of desire, as though he has been waiting to do this for years. His arms circle round me, holding me to him, and I feel him tangle his fingers into my hair. God, I have wanted to do this since the moment I met him. Sherlock draws away slightly and smiles down at me. "You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that John." He goes to pull me back to him and frowns when I place my hands on his chest to stop him. "What's wrong?" He asks, sounding slightly out of breath.

I lean forward to whisper in his ear. "Tell me, what is an unusual place to have feathers?" I ask, struggling to keep my voice steady.

"Where do you think?" He asks questionally before once more pressing his lips to mine. This time the kiss is deeper, more passionate, and Sherlock reaches up to undo several of my shirt buttons. I hear a rustling noise and open my eyes, curious to see what could have made such a sound. What I see is a pair of golden red wings stretching behind Sherlock which glow with a faint light. As I watch they curl over until Sherlock and I are enveloped in their warm, soft embrace. I wonder what they feel like. Curious I reach out and gently stroke the feathers on the wing nearest me. Sherlock lets out a quiet murmur and arches his back like a cat. I continue to run my hand up the feathers, not stopping until I reach where the wing merges with the skin of his shoulder blade. Sherlock breaks off the kiss with a small gasp. Quickly he finishes unbuttoning my shirt and pratically tears it off me. His arms tighten around me as he easily lifts me from the chair and gently lays me on the floor, straddling me so we can still cocooned by his wings. I'd forgotten shappe-shifters were stronger than humans. Sherlock stares down at me, his blue eyes dark with wanting before removing his own shirt.

I reach up and pull Sherlock back to me, our bare chests rubbing against each other. I slide my hands back to his wings and Sherlock lets out a low moan, pressing himself against me. I allow myself a small grin. Obviously his wings are rather sensitive... I could have some fun with this. Sherlock's hands creep downward and he slips his fingertips beneath the waistband of my jeans.

From nearby I hear the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs outside the flat before the door is violently flung open with considerable force. "God there really has been an explosion." I hear a voice exclaim. "Jesus, what the hell are you guys doing?!" The same voice shouts.

Sherlock's reaction is sudden and startling. Hissing loudly he hovers protectively over me with his golden wings stretched out. I scramble behind me for my shirt and hastily pull it on before peering over Sherlock's shoulder to see who has entered the flat. I smile sheepishly when I see Greg Lestrade and Sally Donovan standing in the doorway, both of them weariwng identical expressions of shock. Gently, aware of the tension radiating from him, I lay a hand on Sherlock's arm. At my touch a violent shudder runs through him before he relaxes and sits back. He still isn't completly at ease because he still remains between me and the very surprised policemen. Well I suppose there went Sherlock's desire for no one else to find out he was a shape-shifter because I can gareente that this little 'incident' will be all round Scotland Yard before the day is out.

"Lestrade, what are you doing here?" I ask, trying not to blush. I fail and feel my cheeks grow hot. As though sensingg my discomfort Sherlock leans back and tenderly kisses me on the cheek which only makes me blush even harder.

Lestrade clears his throat and adverts his eyes. "We recieved several calls about an explosion at Baker Street and came to investigate... I just assumed it would be here." He glances around at the burnt remains of the flat. "What happened here?"

It takes a while to explain everything to him from my kidnapping by Moran to Moriarty's threat and the devastating explosion. Throughout the explanation Donovan seems disinterested while Lestrade stares at me the whole time. Once I have finished he collapses back against the wall, looking more than a little shaken. "This is a lot to take in." He takes a deep breath. "So let me get this straight...Moriarty wants you to work with him right."

Sherlock shakes his head and folds his wings against his back where they merge into his still bare skin and disappear. "Not just to work with him Greg. Moriarty wishes me to become some sort of pet." He explains, sounding faintly disgusted with the idea. He stretches, reaching his arms backward so one of his hands brushes against mine. He gives me a small smile which I return. That is the first time he has ever bothered to get Lestrade's name right.

Outside, coming closer all the time, I hear the sound of sirens racing in our direction. As usual the rest of Lestrade's force is slow to follow him. Lestrade sighs and runs a hand through his hair causing it to stick up. "None of this goes further than this room. The official story we will release to the press will be a gas leak and an accidental spark which just happened to ignite it. I do not need another mass panic centred around Moriarty." He turns on his heel, guesturing for Donovan to follow him. Before he leaves he glances back over his shoulder. "Sherlock, John, we shall never speak of what you two were or were not doing ever again." He says before exiting the flat.

As soon as we hear the front door slam Sherlock turns to me with a grin. "Now where were we John?"


	2. Chapter 2

This time there is nothing to disturb us. Lestrade, having realised there is nothing he can do, has directed his force to return to New Scotland Yard, left about ten minutes ago, muttering darkly under his breath about how we were responsible for all the extra work he'd had this year. That is a little unfair because it wasn't our fault the culprit from the drug trafficking case had fallen off a roof (well Sherlock had tripped him meaning to stop him but the falling thing was an accident). As soon as the growl of the engine of Lestrade's car has faded into nothing Sherlock crushes his lips to mine again, his hands once more ripping through the buttons of my shirt as he steers me backwards in the direction of his bedroom. He stops kissing me long enough to gently guide me down onto the bed, deftly undoing my belt and sliding my jeans off before I am really aware of what he is doing. For a moment he stares at me, his eyes seeming to drink in every little detail of me before a lazy grin spreads over his face. He flexes his shoulders and his golden red wings spread out behind him, the tips of them touching opposite walls.

I smile up at him, waiting for his next move. "So you never did tell me where your feathers were?" I tease, my voice breathy and shaking slightly. I have been waiting for this moment since I'd met Sherlock and discovered how unique and human he was despite the shields he'd erected to hide his true self from those around him.

Sherlock sighs, reaches down and gently strokes a hand across my cheek. Then slowly, painfully slowly he removes his belt and eases his trousers down and off. His teasing expression momentarily becomes serious. "This may be a bit of a shock to you John." He says.

I prop myself up on my elbows and fix him with a level gaze. "I saw you shift into a phoenix and absorb fire in order to save me. And for goodness sake Sherlock you just healed a first degree burn. I hardly doubt you can shock me anymore."

Sherlock bites his lips and looks thoughtful. "Close your eyes." He commands, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear. He rolls his orange eyes when I continue to stare at him. "Close your eyes." He repeats. I do as he says, the tension of waiting almost too much to bear. I feel the bed move and hear a sigh beside my left ear, laughing softly when Sherlock's warm breath tickles the side of my face. "Okay John you can open your eyes now." He murmurs before leaning down to kiss me. Unlike the other times the kiss is forceful and takes my breath away.

It is now, sadly, events rapidly begin to go wrong.

I'd noticed a while ago before Lestrade and Donovan had interrupted us that Sherlock's skin was growing warmer. At first it had simply been pleasant but now was beginning to become unbearable. With a small sigh of regret I break off the kiss and press my hands to Sherlock's shoulders to momentarily put some distance between us. Sherlock frowns at me but doesn't say anything. "Jesus, you're burning up Sherlock." I cry in alarm, pulling my hands back from him with a yelp. The palms are bright red and hot to the touch. "What's wrong?" I ask him.

Sherlock stands, swaying a little as though unsteady on his feet, and spreads out his wings to their full extent. I stare at them for tiny flames are igniting within the feathers until his wings are alight with a sickly pale yellow light. If I wasn't mistaken I would say that Sherlock looked drained like all of his energy had been suddenly taken away. His skin begins to glow an intense, brilliant silver and I am forced to advert my eyes. Sherlock sighs and leans back against the wall. "I have done too much. I shouldn't have tried to heal myself after absorbing the fire of the explosion." I take a step towards him but he waves me back. "Stop, don't come any nearer John." He cries. Burying his head in his hands he gives voice to a muffled groan of pain before losing control of his form and shifting into a phoenix. It pains me that I am unable to help him.

"What can I do? Please Sherlock, I can't stand by and watch you suffer like this!" he glow emanating from Sherlock is glowing brighter and the heat is enough to cause me to step back. Sherlock's face twists into a unreadable expression and his eyes gleam orange. He reaches out and touches the soft feathers of his wing to my cheek, despite how I flinch at his touch. I breathe in deeply, trying to steady myself. "Sherlock?" I ask softly because I get the feeling it wouldn't be a good idea to startle him at the moment.

Sherlock's eyes focus on me and I feel a shiver run down my spine. "I'm sorry John but this may hurt a little." He says before closing his eyes.

Almost immediatly I feel a draining sensation flood through me and my knees begin to shake. My chest grows tight, uncomfortably so, and I find myself struggling for breath. "S-S-Sherlock." I stutter, trying to understand what was happening to me. "What are you doing to me?" I ask, having to force out each word between gritted teeth. My legs give way beneath me and I collapse to the floor. Sherlock doesn't let go of me and follows me down, still keeping his wing pressed against my face. I feel my heartbeat slow, my pulse becoming sluggish, and it is then it hits me what Sherlock is doing; he is taking my lifeforce in order to help himself heal. Darkness flutters at the edge of my vision and I feel the first stirrings of panic as I wonder whether Sherlock would be able to stop. I breath deeply to calm myself and chide myself for being ridiculous. Sherlock would never do anything to harm me. As though he is able to read my mind he leans forward and plants a gentle kiss on my cheek. I gaze into his orange eyes and notice how much better Sherlock's wound is looking, in fact it has almost disappeared. Then he takes his hand (strange I don't remember him shifting back into human form) from my cheek.

"I'm sorry John." He says, his voice oddly muffled and far away sounding. I am aware of him carrying me and gently lowering me onto the bed. "Sleep now John, you'll feel better soon."

Closing my eyes I allow the darkness to take me.

Sherlock was so preoccupied with how he had lost control of himself and fed off John's lifeforce he didn't notice the magpie waiting for him to leave, its beady eyes bright and gleaming. It watched him turn the corner before springing into action. Diving down from the lamp-post the magpie shifted into its human form and stood before the door of 221 Baker Street. He couldn't believe Sherlock was leaving John Watson unprotected and alone. With a brief glance behind him Moriarty waved to Sebastrian Moran who growled and padded forward. Together the two of them entered the flat where an unsuspecting John slept soundly and made their way upstairs. With a soft laugh Moriarty walked into the flat and made his way towards where the bedrooms were. He was still expecting to find some sort of protection left behind and was surprised not to find anything. As a result he began to grow more confident, prowling around the flat and running his hand across the furniture.

Behind him Moran growled and shifted into human form. "What do you want me to do Jim?" He asked.

Moriarty glanced at him from where he was blowing ash off a half burnt skull. "Get John Watson for me will you." He smiled when Moran rolled his eyes and made a face. Walking forward he pecked his second in command gently on the cheek. "Don't look like that Seb. I know you don't like doing the maual work but if you do this for me I promise I will make it worth your while." He whispered in Moran's ear, smiling when his second in command blushed. "Take John Watson down to the van and I'll meet you there. I just want to leave a little message for dear Sherly." He said softly.

Moran nodded in acknowledgement and hastened to carry out Moriarty's instructions. Once he had gone Moriarty scanned the destroyed flat as he tried to decide what form his message should take.

Should he leave a written message, a picture? As he often did when he was deep in thought Moriarty shifted back into a magpie and began to lazily fly around the apartment, exploring each and every room. His gaze fell on a discarded mobile phone lying on the floor beside a rumpled bed. Inspiration struck. Flying down to it he closed his claws around it and with some considerable effort lifted it onto the bed. As a finishing touch Moriarty pulled out one of his purple green tail feather and placed it beside the phone. Satisfied Sherlock would both understand and receive the message Moriarty shifted back into human form and left the flat, a sly grin lighting up his face. Stupid, stupid Sherlock, he was going to pay dearly for not protecting John Watson. He rubbed his hands together with glee. He was going to enjoy having Sherlock as a pet.

Sherlock meanwhile was rapidly heading away from Baker Street without really knowing where he was exactly going. Confused thoughts churned in his head; he couldn't believe how irresponsible he had been. He might have ended up killing John if he'd gone too far. Cursing under his breath Sherlock ran a hand through his hair and took a few deeep breaths. He calmed a little when he thought about how soft John's skin had felt beneath his hands and a smile spread across his face. He'd waited so long to do that was pleased to discover John felt the same way towards him. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the crowd of people who were gathering to stare at the enormous creature winging its way across the rooftops. Sherlock collided with the back most people and stumbled backward a few steps. He sighed and rolled his eyes. Didn't these people have anything better to do than to get in his way? Several of the members of the crowd were shape-shifters (ordinary shifters were uanble to conceal their animal forms completly) but Sherlock didn't really notice them because shape-shifters after all aren't all that unusual and if he went around noticing every single one he would never get anything done.

A deep rumbling roar echoed through the street, loud and surprising enough to cause even Sherlock to jump. He spun round, searching for the source of the sound. Like every one else he was shocked there was a shifter in animal form around because new rules brought in by the goverment banned shape-shifters from shifting in public places. Obviously this shape-shifter hadn't gotten the memo. A thought struck Sherlock. What if the shifter was Moran? He clenched his fists and took a deep breath, trying to prevent himself from loosing his temper and bursting into flame because he didn't think the people around him would like that. Sherlock pushed his way through the crowd and carried on walking. He really didn't need a confrontation with another shifter right now.

"Sherlock!" A loud voice snarled followed by the sound of a huge creature touching down on the pavement.

Sherlock sighed. Great, just what he needed...an audience with his brother. He could fly away but it would be rather pointless considering his brother could also fly. "Really Mycroft. Just because you hold a high position in the British Government does not mean you can ignore the new laws." He said with a laugh, turning to face his brother.

Like his younger brother Mycroft was a mythical creature shape-shifter, a highly rare occurance in a country where mythical shifters were thought of as legendary. Unlike Sherlock however Mycroft had drawn the short straw concerning his creature. While Sherlock was a phoenix with beautiful golden feathers, Mycroft was a dull, stone gargolye. As usual when having to deal with his brother Mycroft's expression was already annoyed. "I am not ignoring the new law Sherlock but as an employee of the British Government I am entitled to certain...benefits." He said in his gravelly voice, sounding a little smug. He shook himself, his joints cracking as the stone crunched together. Sherlock winced at the horrible squealing noise and gritted his teeth. "Anyway Sherlock we need to talk about what happened this morning. Greg informed me that there was a little incident at Baker Street; an explosion apprently. He also told me that he found you and John in a rather...well lets call it a comprising position." He said, curious to see how his younger brother would react. Sherlock had always had a soft spot for John Watson.

A light blush crept up Sherlock's cheeks and he adverted his eyes. He could always rely on Mycroft to make things uncomfortable. Anyway Sherlock didn't want to think about John or who would end up rushing back to the flat and crawling into bed beside him. The thought made him feel warm inside and a smile spread across his face. He became aware of Mycroft's grey eyes intently watching him and cleared his throat, feeling a little awkward. Maybe it would be best if he changed the subject. "Did Lestrade tell you what Moriarty wanted?" He asked, a smile on his face as he thought about John's lips on his.

Mycroft tipped his head to one side and tried to ignore the goofy expression on his brother's face knowing he was probably thinking about John again. "He didn't no, why don't you tell me?" He asked. Behind him the crowd began to disperse, realising that nothing was going to happen.

Sherlock took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. He froze and stared at his hand. If he wasn't mistaken he was beginning to glow; a sign he was beginning to loose control of his shifter side as his thoughts settled on Moriarty. "Moriarty wants me to join him, to become a kind of pet who is at his every beck and call. He said that if I refused he would destroy everyone I cared about, starting with John..." His voice trailed away as he realised what he had done. He had rushed out of the flat and left John utterly unprotected!

Mycroft lowered himself to the ground and steepled his clawed paws together. "Hmmm, I can see how that could be problematic. You may have a brilliant mind brother but your heart will always be your greatest weakness; John Watson will be the death of you someday." He said, staring at Sherlock with a serious expression. "I will offer what help I can and I suggest you also ask Lestrade for help too since we can't be too careful where Moriarty is concerned. By the way do you need a place to stay Sherlock?"

Sherlock was startled by his brother's concern. "No it's fine thankyou, only the living room and the kitchen were destroyed. The other rooms are fire." He could have taken Mycroft up on his offer but he was looking forward to spending some more time with John... assuming of course nothing had happened to him in the meantime.

Mycroft ran his stone tongue across his fangs. "Very well suit yourself brother." He said before pausing and staring into space for a moment. "You need to be more careful with your wings. Now I know you were...er...occupied at the time but you really do need to take more care, I would hate it if something were to happen to you." With a groan Mycroft heaved himself to his feet and stretched out his cramped muscles with a series of loud cracking sounds. "Please try not to get yourself killed Sherlock." He said before unfurling his wings with a grating noise. In a single powerful bound he launched himself into the air and slowly flew away, a dark blot in the skies above London.

Sherlock watched him go, a little taken aback by the crack in Mycroft's usually icy exterior. For his older brother to show his more caring side must mean he was seriously worried about him. Sherlock shook his head, he didn't have time to worry about it now because he just wanted to get back to Baker Street and see how John was. Turning on his heel he set off down the street muttering darkly under his breath about how it was unfair that his brother could get away with shifting in public. When he arrived back at the flat half an hour later he could tell straight away something was wrong. Cautiously he stepped inside and glanced around for signs. On the floor, clearly imprinted in the soft, grey ash, was a set of foot prints (middle aged, white male judging by their size and depth) and a number of tea plate sized pawprints. Alarm bells started ringing in Sherlock's head.

"John, I'm back!" He cried as he strode into the bedroom where he'd left his friend sleeping. He hoped his intuition and brilliant mind would fail him just this once and he would find John waiting for him. Of course, as he had known, he was right and he found himself confronted with the sight of an empty bed, the sheets tangled. Sherlock gritted his teeth, silently cursing Moriarty and Moran. He stumbled forward towards the bed, intending to sit down but stopped when he noticed the magpie feather and phone lying on top of the sheets. Sherlock gazed at them, trying to work out their meaning. You didn't need to be a genius to work out that Moriarty obviously had intended them as a message but for the first time ever Sherlock found his powers of deductions failing him. An uncontrollable, white hot anger began to burn within Sherlock and he clenched his fists, struggling to remain in control. Moriarty would pay if you laid a single finger on John. At that moment Sherlock's train of thought was interrupted by a shrill ringing sound. He stared blankly at the phone for a second before he picked it up with shaking hands. "Hello?" He asked hesistantly.

"Time is up Sherly." Crows Moriarty gleefully. "Now is the time to make your final choice. Either you join me or John Watson dies here on the roof of St Bart's hospital. I'll be waiting." He says, his lilting vocie sly. The phone goes dead.

Sherlock stared dumbly down at the phone. He had known he shouldn't have gone out and left John unprotected and alone. Whatever happened now it would all be his fault. Sherlock cursed under his breath and slammed his fist against the wall. Mycroft had been wrong...it wouldn't be John who was the death of Sherlock but Sherlock would be the death of John, he just knew it. Sherlock cried out in anger and threw the phone at the opposite wall where it struck the paper with a crack. If anything happened to John he would never forgive himself which was a serious problem for a shape-shifter who was unable to die.

With a shriek of rage Sherlock shifted and smashed through the window, the intense heat of his flames melting the glass into a glittering waterfall. His firey wings painted intricate patterns across the sky as he shot towards St Bart's hospital. He didn't care if anyone spotted him; why should he care, it wasn't like a normal human could stop him. Beneath him London was a blur of light with streets and tourist attractions becoming little more than a grey smudge. Before him loomed the tall chimney of the Tate Modern art gallery and a small smile crept across Sherlock's beak, he was almost at the hospital. Below shape-shifters and humans alike spotted the phoenix burning a path across the skies of the city including Mycroft who left the incredibly important meeting he was in. Sherlock was also noticed by Lestrade who rushed out of his office and into his patrol car, intending to intercept Sherlock because he hadn't yet forgotten the sight of the wrecked and burnt flat.

Before he landed Sherlock circled a few times around the building to check for traps and ambushes. He was unable to spot anything but was still never the less wary as he dived down, sweeping back his wings as he did so to slow himself down. He gently touched down, easily shifting back into human form as he did so. Gazing round at the suspiciously empty rooftop he brushed his hand through his usual messy tangle of curls and considered his next move. Odd, that Moriarty shouldn't be here already but Sherlock guessed the consulting criminal probably had a big plan he was putting into motion. He took a deep breath. "Moriarty! Stop hiding like a coward and face me." He shouted, his voice carrying in the still air.

Quiet footsteps approached him, followed by the appearence of Moriarty with a smirk on his face. Behind him was Moran with his arm around John's throat and a gun pressed to his head. "Hello Sherly, so good of you to turn up. Tell me, have you made a decision yet?" He asked tipping his head to one side so the sunlight glinted off his irredescent streaks.

Sherlock didn't answer Moriarty at first because he was too busy staring at John. His friend didn't look to bad, a little scruffy but otherwise he didn't appear to have been mistreated. He did however look scared and Sherlock gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Quickly growing bored Moriarty nodded at Moran who grinned back at him before using the butt of his gun to strike John, hard, across the side of the head. There was a sickening crunch and John was knocked off his feet, colliding painfully with the rough surface of the roof. "Why did you do that?" Sherlock cried. "He wasn't even doing anything."

Moriarty shrugged. "I was getting bored." Behind him Moran yanked John back to his feet despite how he swayed alarmingly and a trickle of blood dripped from a cut in his forehead. "And you weren't answering me Sherly."

Sherlock clenched his fists, his mind made up. "Here is my answer. I will never join you Moriarty. Let John go and we can forget any of this happened." He said, being careful not to take his eyes off the consulting criminal strutting back and forth in front of him. "All of us will be unable to walk away unharmed." He continued. Closing his eyes he concentrated on calming his anger because it wouldn't be good if he burst into flames right now. Sherlock sighed and his wings vanished.

A wicked smile spread across Moriarty's face. He had been waiting for Sherlock to relax and shift completly back into human form. "Really Sherlock, you'll never join me?" He says, sounding a little incredulous. "How can you say no when I am holding your best friend hostage, especially when a little birdy has told me that you and Johnny Boy are slightly more than just friends." He said, his voice low and sly sounding.

Behind him Moran shifted his right hand into a paw before dragging his claws across John's chest. The sharp points easily part cloth and flesh with a faint tearing sound. John let out a quiet gasp of pain and clutched at his chest, a thin trickle of blood dripping from between his fingers. He glared at Moran before turning to address Sherlock. "Don't listen to him Sherlock! He's a bloody maniac." John cried through gritted teeth. Moran snarled loudly and raked his claws across John.s face, cutting three bloody streaks in the skin.

The anger within Sherlock boiled back to the surface and he shifted in an explosion of burning fire with a piercing shriek. He knew it was probably a bad idea but he couldn't take watching John getting hurt and not being able to do anything about it. Wings outstretched he towered above Moriarty and the intense heat of his fire forced the criminal to take a step back. Normally people cowered back and were scared when he was in full phoenix form so Sherlock was surprised when Moriarty threw back his head and let a loud laugh. "Thankyou Sherlock, bless you. I have been waiting for you to shift." He said with a small bow. "Moran, the serum if you would be so kind." He said, reaching out towards his second in command.

Making sure to keep one arm wrapped around John's throat Moran passed across what looked like a normal handgun with a syringe attached to it that was filled with a bright yellow liquid. Sherlock eyed it suspiciously, unsure as to what it was, and readied a ball of fire for when Moriarty was far enough from John to risk a shot. His orange eyes glowed fiercely. "Let John go Moriarty, this is your final warning." Sherlock said, hoping his threat would work. His heart filled with dread when Moriarty, seemingly unfazed by a phoenix in full flame, pointed the handgun directly at his heart.

"I asked you nicely Sherly but you just didn't listen. Now we are going to have to do this the hard way." Moriarty gloated before pulling the trigger.

The blast was deafening and sent a tiny dart flying through the air towards Sherlock who attempted to fly out of the way. He failed and the dart struck him in the neck, sending a powerful drug coursing through his system. Instantly his fire dimmed a little as a feeling of dizziness swept through him. He shook his head a few times to clear it but a faint buzzing sound filled his ears. A slight groan escaped him and he buried his head in his wings.

John struggled in Moran's grip. "What was that?" What the hell did you give him Moriarty?" He demanded, horrified how pale Sherlock had become and how pained his expression was. "Sherlock, are you okay?" He asked, panicking when Sherlock didn't even react. "Sherlock!"

Moriarty ignored him and gleefully rubbed his hands together, watching Sherlock eagerly. "Moran, release John Watson will you?" He said, his litling voice sly.

Sherlock let out a cry of pain and collapsed down to the roof, his eyes glazing over. God his veins, his entire body felt like it was on fire (the irony didn't escape Sherlock). Dimly he heard someone shouting his name and glanced up. He frowned at the person running towards him. With their blond hair and open expression they were vaguely familiar but for the life of him Sherlock was uanble to think of who the person was or what they could mean to him. Meanwhile John was rushing towards Sherlock, aiming to help him but paused when he saw, from the corner of his eye, Moriarty walking towards Moran. He clenched his fists and reached into his pocket for his handgun which he had forgotten to put away when they had arrived back from the crime scene. "What have you done to Sherlock?" He demanded. He was taken aback when Moriarty started to laugh. "What? What's so funny?" He asked.

Moriarty wiped a hand across his eyes as though dismissing tears of mirth and shook his head. "Bad move Johnny Boy. You really should not have done that." He said, glancing over John's shoulder towards Sherlock. John followed his gaze and was shocked to see a look of pure hatred in the normally gentle ocean blue eyes. "Sherlock?" John asked, uncertainty in his voice.

Sherlock opened his beak and hissed angrily. "Put the gun away human or I will burn you." To illustrate his point Sherlock half spread his wings, sending ribbons of fire coiling towards John who was forced to hastily stumble backwards. "You will not get a second warning."

Moriarty grinned at John. "I would do as he says John Watson. You really don't want to argue with a phoenix shape-shifter, especially one who feels threatened." Reluctantly John clicked the safety on and tossed his gun into a corner. A little of the tension left Sherlock but he didn't relax his threatening pose and continued to glare fiercely at John. A flicker of brief recognition washed through his mind followed by a name, John?, before disappearing again. "See that wasn't so hard was it John?" Moriarty said, a thoughful expression settling over his face. "Now what to do with you...so many choices. I could get Sherlock to kill you but he won't know its you so there is really no point, or you could become another body for Greg Lestrade to deal with or..." A sadistic smile spread over his face. "Or I could take you with us because I'm sure Sherlock will enjoy having a human to play with. Yes, I think that might just work."

A cold shiver ran down John's spine. "You can't do that. Someone, our friends, will notice we are missing and come looking for us."

Moriarty shook his head and gestured for Sherlock to stand down. He smiled when the command was instantly obeyed. "Not if they think that the two of you are dead." He checked his watch. "In fact Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade should be here any moment. We had better ourselves scarce Sebastrian. Good luck Sherlock, don't forget to stick to your script." He cried, shifting into a magpie and vanishing into the shadows closely followed by Moran.

Then it was just Sherlock and John left on the roof. John half hoped Sherlock would reveal the whole thing was fake and that he was only pretending to be under Moriarty's control but he was disappointed when Sherlock seized his arm in a tight grip and dragged him over to the edge of the roof. John swallowed nervously, finding himself staring straight down at the pavement far below and thinking about how much it would hurt if he were to fall. A siren cut through the peaceful air, rapidly heading back towards St Bart's hospital. A few moments later a police car, with its blue lights flashing, tore around the corner and screeched to a halt outside the doors of the hospital. Lestrade and Mycroft jumped out and ran forward, letting out shocked cries when they spotted Sherlock and John standing on the edge of the roof.

"SHERLOCK!" Mycroft bellowed, his voice carrying easily. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

Sherlock frowned down at the two people shouting at him and waving their arms. Like the human beside him they were vaguely familiar. He breathed in deeply and retracted his wings, the feathers vanishing smoothly back into his skin. It was time to try out the script Moriarty had given him. "I'm sorry but all this is becoming too much for me, I simply can not cope any more.

Mycroft gritted his teeth. "Don't be an idiot Sherlock. You can't commit suicide, you are a phoenix!" He shouted. Beside him Lestrade stared upwards, his eyes wide with shock at what he was seeing. Sherlock was one of the strongest people he knew, unfazed by everything. Urgh. He buried his head in his hands and groaned. Why was this happening?"

"That isn't quite true; I'm not completly unkillable. I can die if my heart is damaged or destroyed." He yelled back. "And it'll be easy for John because humans are so much more fragile than shape-shifters." He took a step forward, dragging John forward so the two of them were teetering right on the edge. Panic washed through John and he began to struggle against Sherlock's tight grip. He didn't want to die and with Sherlock under Moriarty's control he knew no help would come from him.

"Don't listen to him! Moriarty..." John didn't get any further because the next moment he found himself hurtling forward into empty air after a hard shover from Sherlock. Unable to stop himself he let out a loud cry as he began to drop towards the unforgiving pavement below. Closing his arms he prepared himself for impact. Instead of cold solid concrete however he landed on something soft, warm and very much alive. He let out a muffled gasp and opened his eyes, confused as to what was happening. Why wasn't he dead? He was sure people usually died when they were pushed off roofs. He cried out when he saw the face of Moriarty looking down at him. He opened his mouth to yell again but Moriarty made a shushing sound and placed a hand over his mouth before looking up at Sherlock. From the other side of the small building hiding him for veiw John could hear Mycroft and Lestrade's shocked exclamations.

"Oh my god! Did you see that? Sherlock bloody pushed him." Lestrade exclaimed, anger in his voice.

Beside him Mycroft just stared at Sherlock, taken aback rather than angry. "Sherlock?" He asked in a small voice, sounding disbelieving that his brother was capable of doing such a thing.

**Hey Guys, I just wanted to say thanks for sticking with me thus far and for the reveiws which are like the only reason why I continue to write fan-fiction. By the way, don't worry there is more Johnlock coming. **

Sherlock didn't reply and with three pairs of disbeliving eyes watching him spread his arms wide and let himself fall forward into empty air. Mycroft bellowed in alarm and leaped forward, shifting in mid-air and flying towards his brother. He cleared the top of the narrow building in the centre of the ambulance waiting spot with inches to space and his eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of Moriarty holding John down. He barely had time to cry out before Moran in tiger form knocked him from the air and sent him crashing down into the pavement, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. Despite the fact he was easily twice as large as Moran Mycroft found himself pinned against the ground with one his wings twisted painfully underneath him. He tried to free it but there was a nasty grating sound and intense pain as the wing stretched and almost broke. Okay, so he wasn't going to get free anytime soon and Mycroft was forced to watch the sickening sight of his younger brother smashing into the pavement with a crack as several of his bones shattered in impact followed by an explosion of blood. Mycroft willed Sherlock to move, to show some sign that he was alright but he remained still.

Savouring his look of horror Moriarty released John and slowly stalked towards Mycroft. "Well if it isn't Mycroft Holmes." He drawled. Behind him John crawled over to Sherlock and frantically began to check for a pulse. "Such a pleasure you could join us here today."

Mycroft growled at Moriarty and struggled against Moran's sharp claws which was digging into his stony skin. "Leave them alone Moriarty. Please, you don't need to do this."

Moriarty snorted loudly. "Don't be so boring Mycroft. Of course I have to do this and you can't stop me." He said as he slowly circled around Sherlock, his eyes alight with a obsessive gleam. "You see if you try to stop me or tell anyone what happened here today I will rip out John Watson's heart...no better I'll get Sherlock to do it." He hissed, a manic smile spreading across his face. A shudder ran through Mycroft at the expression in Moriarty's eyes and he nodded to show that he understood. Moriarty turned his back and started to walk away. "Good I'm glad we understand each other." He motioned at Moran who shifted back into human form and yanked a stunned John to his feet before aiming a kick at Sherlock's side. "Get up you useless bird, we're leaving." Moriarty snapped.

Sherlock made a small sound in his throat and painfully stood up, blood pouring from a nasty crack in his skull. He glanced round, spotted Moriarty and obidently headed over to him. Mycroft's heart fell; obviously Moriarty had managed to get Sherlock totally under his control and he was helpless to do nothing but watch as Moriarty, John and Moran disappeared around the corner with Sherlock at their heels. He swore under his breath and shifted back into human form. For a moment he simply laid there and rested his aching head against the cool pavement. How had this happened? God, he should have done something more to protect his brother. He wondered how Lestrade would take the news...he swore under his breath when he remembered the policeman. Composing his face in an expression of deep sadness and went to talk to him.

When he saw him Lestrade hurried to intercept him. "What...?" His voice trailed away when he saw the expression on Mycroft's face and his own face fell. He had the horrible feeling that something really terrible had happened..hang on what was he thinking? Of course something terrible had happened, he had just seen Sherlock and John fall from the roof of a five story building. He reached out towards the oldest Holmes brother and he gratefully fell into his arms with a quiet sob. "Ssh its okay. Let's get you home okay?" He said softly, lightly stroking the back of his head while leading him back towards his police car.

As they were driving away Mycroft glanced out of the back window in time to see St Bart's hospital vanish around the corner before he rested his head back against the seat with a sigh, vowing to himself that he would find a way to help his brother and John Watson. He closed his eyes and cursed quietly under his breath. Hopefully John would be able to survive in Moriarty's clutches but with Sherlock under the consulting criminal's control he wasn't sure how things would pan out.


	3. Chapter 3

I think it is sunlight that I miss the most, cooped up in this tiny airless room; the feel of its warmth on my skin and its soft golden light. I have no idea how long I have been locked up in here but since I have been imprisoned here Sherlock has never visited which I consider a good thing because all I think about when my thoughts brieftly turn to him is how he pushed me from the roof of St Barts hospital. Even though I know he wasn't totally in control of his actions I still feel a faint resentment towards him. Standing up I pace from side to side, careful to hold my arms out before me so I wouldn't collide into the walls.

After intially dumping me here Moriarty appears to have completly lost interest in me and hasn't bothered to return once to see how I am doing. Instead Moran is the one who has been bringing me food and water, a job he doesn't overly like judging by the way he throws down both plate and cup and leaves without even acknowledging me. Meal time is also the only time the overhead lights are switched on. Occasionally as I sit here in the dark I wonder how Sherlock is doing but never for long; remembering him and the happy times we spent together is simply too painful. From outside the room I hear a faint sound and momentarily pause in my pacing, trying to make sense of the noise. Footsteps. I tense, clenching my fists. Moran has already brought my meal today so I know it isn't him. The only other options I can think of is either that Moriarty has finally decided to get rid of me or Sherlock... my heart gives a little flutter and I breathe deeply to calm myself. It can't be him...he is probably off doing Moriarty's dirty work. The footsteps come closer and back up away from where I know the door to be. The door swings open and I am blinded by the intense light streaming into my cell.

The silholtte I see framed in the light is vaguely familiar but before I can see any more the person shuts the door behind them, once more plunging the room into darkness. Apart from their quiet breathing the person remains silent, not saying a word, and don't move from where they are standing before the door. If I want to be honest with myself it's a little unsettling.

"What do you want?" I demand, clenching my fists. If this person does intend to harm me I will fight them with everything I have. The person still doesn't say anything and I hear a slight rustling sound as though they are taking a step forward. I let out a quiet hiss. "What do you want?" I repeat, a harshness creeping into my tone despite the slight shake in my voice.

To my great annoyance the person still doesn't reply. Instead an intense golden glow steadily lights up the room, forcing me to hold an arm up before my eyes. As quickly as it appeared the light fades away until the room is bathed in a gentle yellow light that is just enough to illuminate all the corners of the room. Gingerly I lower my arm and blink a few times to clear from my vision the black dots I see every time I blink. Slowly a familiar person materialises before me and even though I try to stop it a wide smile spreads across my face. "S-S-Sherlock?" I gasp, hardly believing what I am seeing before me. "What are you doing here?" I ask before a feeling of dread settles over me. What if he was still under Moriarty's control?

At first Sherlock just stands there and stares at me, an expression of deep sadness in his orange eyes. Behind him his golden red wings flutter slightly, the tips of his feathers touching the opposite walls. I see him swallow and he glances down at the floor. I frown at him, was it possible Sherlock was...nervous? I look up at Sherlock when he clears his throat and takes a step towards me. "I came to visit you John." He says, taking another step towards me.

I stare at him intently, trying to work out whether he was no longer under Moriarty's control or whether he was being ordered to trick me into trusting him. Despite the fact I have learned several tricks of observation and deduction from Sherlock I am unable to work out if it is really Sherlock I am seeing before me. Crossing my arms I stare at him, waiting to see how he reacts. He returns my stare, appearing unfazed. "Well, why haven't you visited before now? Oh wait I know...you were too busy being Moriarty's little pet." I say, only feeling a little bit guilty when he flinches and glances down at the floor. "Tell me Sherlock is that really you, or is Moriarty instructing you to do this?"

Sherlock shakes his head, his expression sad, and reaches out a hand towards me. "I'm so sorry John for everything that twisted bastard made me do." He says, his voice imploring. "Please believe me when I say this is me and that I am no longer under Moriarty's control. Two days ago I woke up and suddenly I remembered everything that had happened and everything I had done." He stops and swallows nervously. I obviously must skeptical because he runs a shaking hand across his forehead and sighs loudly. He walks towards me and when he is about an arms length away from me he reaches out and gently touches his hand to my cheek. At his touch a shiver runs up my spine. He smiles tenderly and comes closer, leaning in so his lips are inches away from mine. A bolt of electricity sizzles through me and I let out a quiet gasp. Sherlock presses in closer before pulling away and looking me directly in the eye. "See John, it really is me." He says softly.

I swallow, my breathing fast and shallow. "It reallly is you." I agree. I lean forward to kiss him again but Sherlock lays a finger against my lips. I glance at him in surprise.

"We don't have much time." Sherlock says earnestly. He doesn't elaborate as to the reason why we don't have much time and glances over at the door as though expecting someone to burst through it at any moment. Instead he places his fingertips either side of my forehead and closes his eyes. "You are going to have to trust me John." He whispers before pressing his lips to mine again.

A warm glowing sensation develops in my chest and spreads throughout my entire body until it feels like a gentle fire is burning inside me. I tangle my fingers in his hair and am surprised when I notice that my skin is alight with a soft golden glow, similiar to the one which is constantly burning through Sherlock's veins. I feel a brief moment of alarm but it quickly disappears because I know Sherlock would never do anything to hurt me.

Sherlock breaks away and smiles at me. "There." He murmurs, backing away a little. I reach towards him only to be brushed away again. "I'm sorry John, I have done all that I can for now. At least this way with the mark of the phoenix upon you you will be safe from fire damage."

I shake my head. None of this makes much sense to me but I have no choice but to go along with whatever Sherlock had planned. I am so intent on watching Sherlock that I don't notice the footsteps heading our way until the door is flung open with a bang, slamming back against the wall. I jump and let out a small cry of alarm while Sherlock growls and hovers protectivly over me. In the doorway is Moriarty and I am startled to see his face is distorted into a twisted, sadistic expression and that in one hand he clutches a syringe of the same bright yellow liquid which he injected Sherlock with before. Without warning he lunges at Sherlock who tries to dodge but fails, allowing Moriarty to plunge the syringe into the side of his neck and depress the plunger. As soon as he yanks out the needle Sherlock sinks to his knees with a groan and buries his head in his hands. A feeling of horror washes over me along with the realisation that I have once more lost Sherlock to Moriarty's control. I sigh and hang my head in defeat.

Moriarty paces slowly around Sherlock shaking his head in disappointment. "I expected better of you Sherly. Fancy sneaking away to visit Johnny Boy in the dead of night." He says, his lilting voice dangerously quiet. "Some-one will have to pay for this." He rubs his hands together and I realise with a twist of revulsion that Moriarty will enjoy whatever is going to happen next. He glances over at Sherlock who is coiled up into a ball, whimpering in pain, anda thoughtful expression settles over his face. "Sherlock." He snaps. "Get up!" At first Sherlock manages to resist the mind control serum running through his veins but as I watch, my heart in my mouth, his eyes glaze over. Once more my friend is lost to me. "You know I have been a terrible host John. I think it's time you saw the rest of my humble abode." He clicks his fingers at Sherlock and he instantly jumps to attention. It makes me sick to watch. "Secure the prisoner." He instructs.

Mindlessly obeying him Sherlock comes over to me and clips a pair of handcuffs about my wrists, rattling them to make sure I can't escape. I wince a little when the metal digs painfully into my skin. Grabbing my wrist Sherlock drags me from the room in Moriarty's wake. I see no point in struggling and placidly follow, all the while examining my surroundings for something I could possibly use. The corridor I am being led down is mostly made of metal with globe lights set in the wall at regular intervals beside metal doors, all of them closed. At the end Sherlock shoves me to the right and into a wide open area brightly lit by tube lighting overhead. After being kept in the dark for several months the light sears into my eyes and I blink rapidly, trying to focus. A shiver runs down my spine when I finally make sense of the room before me. In the centre of the floor is a wooden, straight back chair with a large drain in the floor beneath it. Neither of these things however are what caused the shiver to run down my spine. No, what I am worried about are the rusty red stains coating the grills of the drain. I drag my feet, resisting Sherlock's efforts to force me down into the chair. He shakes me hard and glares at me with fierce orange eyes.

Moriarty strides forward to stand before the chair before giving me a manic grin. Spreading his arms wide slowly spins in a circle. "Welcome Johnny Boy to my interrogation room. Here people spill their darkest secrets while I see how much pain they can withstand before they crack. It's fascinating how strong humans can be." He says, motioning for Sherlock. "Sorry, I guess the tour will have to wait. Sherlock here has been a bad shape-shifter and I wish to conduct a little experiment." He continues while Sherlock slowly walks over to him. "It will be curious to find out just how powerful my mind control drug really is. Sherlock...I want you to burn John Watson."

Sherlock tips his head to one side and appears perplexed for a moment. I clench my fists and pray for him to break free of the mind control. I am not overly hopeful however and so am not surprised when Sherlock bursts into flames. He kneels down and strokes his flaming hand across my cheek. I flinch, expecting to feel intense pain but all I feel is a light, tickling sensation. Startled I glance at Sherlock, remembering what he said earlier about protecting me with the mark of the phoenix. Obviously that means I am now impervious to being hurt by fire. I smile, the gesture is appreciated but un-needed because I have a little trick up my sleeve of which Sherlock knows nothing about. Sherlock's mouth twitches momentarily into a smile before his face settles into a blank expression.

"Stop." I hear Moriarty cry. He claps his hands together and Sherlock instantly jumps to attention. He looks confused when he sees I am uninjured. "That isn't right." He yells, slamming his fists down on the back of the chair before rounding on Sherlock. "What the hell did you do you dumb bird? Burn him again and make sure the flames are white hot this time, I want to smell flesh burning!" He shrieks, momentarily loosing control of his form and shifting into a magpie. Breathing deeply it is several moments before he is able to become human again.

Still kneeling beside me Sherlock closes his eyes and screws up his face in concentration. His golden wings ignite with intense white flames that are so hot they force Moriarty to take a step back. Sherlock lets out a quiet sigh that almost sounds like he is in pain before wrapping his wings around me. A cocoon of heat engulfs me and the chair catches fire. I gasp, the air in my lungs searing my airways but apart from that I am still unharmed. Behind me I hear Moriarty scream in rage. He marches towards Sherlock and before I am able to cry a warning he strikes him hard across the face, knocking him to the floor.

"What have you done Sherlock?" He rages, his eyes glowing with a hateful light. This time he looses control completly. Shrieking loudly he flaps around Sherlock's head, his tail twitching with barely concealed anger. "Answer me! I know the serum wore off earlier and you came running straight to John." He says before he lands on Moran's back, digging his claws into the thick orange and black fur. He glares at me and I feel a shiver run down my spine. I realise then how much danger I am in. Moriarty lets out another shriek and flys at Sherlock's face. Sherlock crys out and tries to fend off the stabbing beak and the tearing claws. "You are mine Sherlock! My own private pet." He pauses for a moment and hovers in the air. "I refuse to loose you Sherly to a mere human." Diving down Moriarty shifts back into human form and, kneeling down before me, he stares me directly in the eye. "Oh Johnny Boy, if only Sherlock hadn't left you alone you might not be in this mess. Rather careless of him not to protect you in some way." He says, a hint of cruelty clearly audible in his usually pleasant voice.

While Moriarty has been talking I have been watching Sherlock for some form of reaction that shows the mind control serum is beginning to wear off. So far there has been nothing but I still remain hopeful. I clench my fists, desperate to show Moriarty that I am not the helpless human he believes me to be. I restrain myself. No, for now I must keep that a secret because I have the feeling it will be of much greater use later on. However it is still with bated breath I wait for what Moriarty will say next.

His eyes flashing with anger Moriarty rises to his full height and stares down at me with a sadistic expressioxn in his eyes. "Now Sherly you may try to fight against what I am about to instruct you to do but in the end you will have to obey me. Do you understand?" He says, his voice dark. "What I want you to do is simple. I want you to tear out John Watson's heart."

'No' I think. 'Not even Moriarty was that evil'. My hands begin to shake, a fact that doesn't go un-noticed by Moriarty because a wicked grin spreads across his face. Okay, maybe he really was capable of such evil. Nervous sweat breaks out on my forehead as I slowly raise my head to look at Sherlock. I honestly don't know what I will do if I see his face blank and expressionless. To my relief I see an expression of disbelief and horror on Sherlock's face. At last, almost too late, the serum has worn off.

"No, I can't." Sherlock cries. Tucking his wings into his back he places an arm around my shoulder and glares up at Moriarty. "I could never hurt John." I feel him flinch a little when Moriarty's face distorts with anger. My heart goes out to him and awkwardly, despite how the metal chaffs at the already damaged skin of my wrists, I reach up and lightly run my fingers along his cheekbone. Sherlock sighs and some of the tension leaves his body.

Moriarty is obviously taken aback by Sherlock's answer because he turns his back and bends down to confer with Moran who growls menacingly under his breath. After a few minutes he stands and spins on his heel to face us. "I injected you with serum Sherlock. Right now you should be mindlessly obeying my every command. Moran here says I should allow him to kill you both and end this once and for all but I want to know how you did it Sherlock. How have you managed to fight the mind control?" He asks, his eyes flashing. Hands on his hips he stares at us. Sherlock remains silent and hugs me closer to him. Moriarty notices the movement and a nasty smirk spreads across his face as realisation dawns. "Of course I should have guessed. You are the reason Johnny Boy." He strides forward and seizes my chin in a tight grip, forcing my head upwards. He doesn't seem to notice or even care that Sherlock has sparks of fire dancing between his fingers and is snarling at him. I close my eyes and try to stop myself from shuddering at the consulting criminal's touch. "Evidently love is strong enough to break a chemically induced mind control. God how pathetic. You should know by now Sherlock that emotions just get in the way." Slowly he reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a black handled dagger. Beside me Sherlock tenses and prepares to attack. Moriarty continues to ignore him. "Well I suppose since Sherly is being so stubbon I will just have to deal with you myself." He says, letting go of my chin and resting the point of the dagger on the skin above my heart.

Sherlock steps forward to intercept Moriarty but he is much too late. With a savage cry Moriarty plunges the dagger into the skin, wrenching the blade upwards so it slices against a rib. White hot pain flares in my chest and I gasp in pain, slumping forward in the chair and cursing Moriarty out loud. Moriarty simply laughs and twists the blade in further. Gritting my teeth I let out an angry snarl. Despite the agonising pain I reach up and wrap my hand around Moriarty's wrist. He looks at me, startled, as I start to slowly apply pressure, more than a human being should be capable of inflicting. At the point where I feel the delicate bones beginning to crunch together I take a deep breath before letting it out in a deafening roar.

Moriarty cries in alarm and tries to pull back away from me. He doesn't get very far and only succeeds in painfully twisting his wrist in my grip. Behind him Moran looks up from where he has been pacing,growls fiercely, baring his sharp fangs, and gracefully springs to Moriarty's defence. I allow a slow smile to spread across my face before abruptly shoving Moriarty away from me and breathing a torren of burning fire towards the massive tiger flying in my direction. There is a nasty smell of burning fur and a high pitched yelp of pain followed by Moran crashing down to the ground. Frantically he rolls about, trying desperatly to put out the flames eating away at him.

From where he is sprawled on the ground Moriarty looks up at me with a shocked expression in his eyes. "What the hell are you?" He demands, cradling his wrist to his chest. I let out a quiet snort; if I am not mistaken there is a small amount of fear present in the consulting criminal's voice. Hesistantly, as though fearful to commit himself to any sudden movements, he edges backwards towards Moran who is lying still with his head hidden beneath his paws. "Sebastrian, are you okay? Please answer me!" He cries, gingerly placing a hand on the slightly singed fur of Moran's pelt. I watch him for a few more seconds before I lose interest and turn my attention instead to the handcuffs still around my wrists.

Beside me Sherlock stands up and backs away a little, despite the fact the expression in his orange eyes is curious rather than afraid. He smiles when he notices I am staring at him and shakes his head. "And you accused me of keeping secrets John. Why you have been hiding it better than I do." He says. Reaching forward he lightly runs the tip of his wings across my cheek. A shiver runs through me at the sensation of the soft, warm featehrs stroking my skin.

Grimly I smile at him and stand up. "You may want to step back a little." I tell him, gritting my teeth against the pain of the intense fire already boiling through my veins.

Hastily Sherlock backs away and leans back against the wall where he watches me intently. Moriarty half rises from where he is tending to Moran but freezes, his eyes wide, when I roar at him and trickles of fire burst from the corner of my mouth. Then, with hardly any effort, I easily shift into my true form. No surprise Moriarty appears rather surprised to find an eight foot dragon towering above him. With a stangled squeak he stumbles back, half hiding himself behind Moran's bulk. With comtempt I kick away the twisted, broken handcuffs and take a step forward, my claws scratching the concrete floor. "Moriarty, I would rethink your previous decision to 'deal' with me." I snarl. Behind me I hear Sherlock laugh softly but I hardly pay him any attention; I have more important things to worry about. "Because you will come out of it much worse than I will." Reaching up I curl the claws of one hands around the hilt of the dagger and carefully ease it out of the armour plating covering my stomach and chest with a grunt of pain. There is a small amount of blood trickling from the wound but not enough to immediatly alarm me.

Moriarty is hesistant to poke his head up over the protection of Moran's side but when he eventually does I am surprised to see his expression is gleeful instead of scared. "Brilliant!" He crows loudly. "Not only can I have a phoenix shape-shifter as my pet but a dragon as well! Think what I could do with two mythical shape-shifters by my side. Why I could rule all of London if I wanted." He cries gleefully.

I tense and snarl loudly, steam trickling from my nostrils and pooling about my feet. "Careful Moriarty. Try anything and Moran will die." I hiss, my voice low and threatening.

Moriarty shakes his head, appearing unfazed by my threat despite the previous affection he'd shown Moran. He shrugs and stuffs his heads in his pockets. "Go ahead John, see if I care. I can always acquire another second in command to follow me around. Oh shut up!" He snaps when Moran shifts and lets out a plaintive meow. "Besides," He continues as he slowly pulls his hand from his right pocket. My snarl deepens when I see his grip is tight around the barrel of a handgun, a real one this time with no syringes. "If you kill Sebastrian I'll shoot you. Even a dragon shape-shifter can die from a gun shot wound." He gloats, his voice cruel. Damn I should have known Moriarty would have another trick up his sleeve. "Do you really want to take that chance Johnny Boy?" He asks, his lilting voice sly.

I glare at Moriarty while I considered how to reply. Because of the armour plating covering my stomach and chest it is highly unlikely a bullet would hit any of my very few weak spots but of course there is still a small chance. I tap a claw against my red scales as I think, the motion creating a ticking sound. Yes I think I can risk it. Opening my jaws I breath in deeply, preparing to unleash a torrent of burning fire but before I can Sherlock steps in front of me , his golden red wings burning fiercely. "What are you doing Sherlock?" I ask. He ignores me and rears back to unleash his own curtain of flames at Moran.

Moran attempts to dodge out of the way but he is much too slow. The fire envelops him, hiding him from sight. Moran cries out, a horrible, strangled sound and dimly I see a figure writhing in the centre of the flames. "NOOOO!" Moriarty yells, his voice raw as though the cry has torn itself involuntarily from his throat. He goes to take a step forward but his gaze falls on me. His face hardens and he stays put, the finger he has poised on the trigger of the gun tightening slightly. "I warned you Johnny Boy of the consequences of hurting Moran." He shrieks, his voice pained.

"I did warn you during our previous encounter Moriarty that I was going to burn the heart out of you. How better to do that then destroy the one thing you care about most." Sherlock says, his deep voice tinged with a callous tone I have never heard before. Now I know Sherlock can be cruel sometimes if the need should arrise but that doesn't mean I overly like this side of him. "Oh don't look like that," He contines when Moriarty's face crumples and a single tear runs down the consulting criminal's cheek. "I'm only returning the favour because after all you did kidnap John and threaten to kill him." He says, a fierce glint in his orange eyes, while behind him the fire continues to engulf Moran who has long since fallen silent and ceased to move. I look at him, trying to catch his attention but he ignores him and continues to face Moriarty.

There are tears glittering in Moriarty's eyes as he glances over his shoulder towards the prone form of Moran. A shiver runs up my spine at the hatred in his eyes when he turns to glare at me. "Two can play at that game Sherlock. After all you know what people say about an eye for an eye." He says, his voice shaking though his grip on the gun remains steady. "So sorry it had to come to this Johnny Boy. I would have liked to have kept you around." He sounds almost regretful but any illusions of guilt are shattered when he smirks nastily at me before pulling the gun's trigger.

The next few moments all blur into one. Once everything has settled down I find myself looking at a scene of complete and utter chaos. Moriarty is sprawled on the floor in a crumbled heap with a gaping hole in his chest while Sherlock towers over him, blood staining his beak and talons. Slowly, hesistantly I make my way over to him, freezing when he starts and spins round to face me with a hiss. He relaxes when he sees me before collasping to his knees with a groan. I rush to his side. "What's wrong?" I ask, dreading that he will confirm what I believe to have happened.

Sherlock shakes his head and gasps in pain when he attempts to rise in a sitting position. My mouth falls open in horror for directly over Sherlock's heart is a jagged edged bullet wound steadily pumping blood across the whiteness of his shirt. His eyes are full of sadness when they meet mine. "I'm so sorry John." He gasps, a bubble of blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. His body convulses and he forces out a curse between gritted teeth. "I couldn't stand by and watch you get shot." He explains, his voice quiet and shaking.

I press my hand firmly over his wound, desperatly trying to stop the flow of blood. By now it should have started closing up by now. "Why aren't you healing Sherlock?" I ask, trying and failing to keep the dread from my voice. "You're a phoenix, you should be healing!" I see a grim expression flash across Sherlock's face before he tenses and heavy coughs shake his body. I wrap my arms around him and gently move his head so it is resting on my lap. Then I hold him tightly until the coughing has subsided. The front of his shirt is almost completly red now. Oh god. For a moment I glance away, not wanting Sherlock to see the tears in my eyes. Swallowing hard I manage to get myself back under control. There had to be something I could do. "Sherlock!"

Sherlock gazes up at me with eyes that are dull and lifeless. His hand shaking he reaches up to stroke my cheek. "The bullet went right through my heart John. Not even a phoenix shape-shifter can repair such an injury." He explains. His voice is thin and quiet enough that I am forced to lean forward so my ear is next to his mouth. At his words my fragile control breaks and a loud sob escapes me. I clap my hand over my mouth to stifle it.

With tears now running freely down my cheeks I gently press my lips to his forehead. He lets out a quiet sigh. "Please Sherlock, you can't die. I love you." I cry, my voice finally breaking. I bury my head in my hands.

"Maybe it's for the best." Sherlock says. "You were almost killed because of me John. Maybe I deserve to die." He murmurs as he gazes over my shoulder at something only he is able to see.

I reel at what I have heard. How can he think that? I don't think, judging by the paleness of his skin and the way his eyes are unable to focus on anything, that he has very long left. A wave of sorrow sweeps over me, almost drowning me but somehow I manage to keep on top of it. "Of course you don't deserve to die Sherlock. Why would you even think that?" Sherlock stares at me and I take both his limp hands in mine, wincing a little at how cold they are. A sudden though strikes me. "Sherlock, listen to me. Remember when you healed yourself by taking energy from me...well I want you to do that again." I know Sherlock will probably refuse the idea but I at least have to try. "Please Sherlock, if you die I don't know what I'll do. I-I don't know if I'll be able to live without you."

I have to wait several terrifying moments before Sherlock speaks and I panic that I might have lost him. Finally however he slowly raises his head to speak. "It's too dangerous John. I could end up killing you." He pleads. "I can't risk losing you." The blood oozing from his chest has definatly started to slow and thicken.

Sherlock gives me a weak smile which I return. "But if you don't do it Sherlock you are going to die. Please, I trust you." I murmur, leaning my forehead against his. Sherlock's skin is cold and clammy and dread clutches at my heart. Sherlock lets out a gentle sigh before relaxing back against me and closing his eyes. A few moments later I feel a draining sensation course through my veins as Sherlock begins to draw some of my strength into himself. Unlike the last time when I'd had no idea what was happening this time I feel safe in the knowledge that Sherlock would never willingly cause any harm to me. Throughout the healing process I watch Sherlock intently, marvelling at how the faint paleness in his cheeks is already being replaced by a bloom of healthy pink. Gingerly because I don't to cause him any more hurt I lay my hand on his gunshot wound and feel a smile of relief spread across my face for beneath my hand Sherlock's skin is beginning to knit itself back together. I can hardly describe how happy I am that Sherlock is going to be alright, despite the weakness flowing through my veins and the darkness gathering at the edges of my vision.

"John? John,are you okay? John!" I hear Sherlock cry, his voice sounding far away. I feel him shaking me. Taking a deep breath it requires nearly all of my remaining strength to bring myself to my senses and give him a lopsided smile. The next moment I find myself wrapped in a hug. "You scared me for a moment." He murmurs in my ear before crushing his lips to mine and entangling his fingers in my hair. I let out a quiet sigh and relax into him, our bodies fitting together as easily as jigsaw peices. At the same I flex my shoulders and my wings spread out behind me

Momentarily I break off the kiss and cast an uneasy glance towards the bodies of Moriarty and Moran. Sherlock tries to pull me back towards him but I place a finger on his lips to stop him. "Not here." I whisper. "Not with them over there. Lets go home." Sherlock frowns at me before running his hand down my back to the point where my wings merge into my skin. A shiver of pleasure runs through me and I have to bite my lip to prevent myself from moaning out loud.

**Thanks for sticking with me this far guys. More Johnlock coming up! (And this time it's serious. ;) )**

A teasing smile spreads across Sherlock's face. "Are you sure John?" He whispers softly, continuing to run his hands lightly along the leathery membranes of my wings. I become aware then, and I really don't know why I hadn't noticed it before, that when I shifted into a dragon the intense fire burning within me had burnt away all my clothes. I glance up at Sherlock, a faint blush on my cheeks, and notice his eyes are dark with lust. He flexes his shoulders and his own wings materialize. Then he carefully lays me down on the concrete floor before kneeling with his legs either side of my hips. His wings arch down until the two of us are surrounded by soft golden feathers which glow with their own inner light. I raise myself up on my elbows and my own winggs stretch up to curve over his. Then Sherlock leans down and lightly kisses me, his hands going back to stroke my wings. I feel a smile spread over my face; two can play at that game. At the same time Sherlock and I run our hands over each others wings. Both of us gasp and arch into the other, the kiss growing deeper and more forceful. At one point Sherlock breaks away and slowly runs his gaze down the full length of my body. He raises an eyebrow. "You have scales." He says, his voice tinged with amusement as he reaches down to lightly stroke his fingertips across the scales running down the inside of my calf.

"Why not." I say, my voice breathy and barely controlled. "You have feathers." I close my eyes and swallow hard as Sherlock's fingertips travel higher. "And I haven't even seen them yet." My voice breaks when Sherlock's slender fingers brush against me. I close my eyes with a groan. I hear the sound of a zip being undone followed by the soft rustle of cloth against skin. Curious I open my eyes. Hmm, Sherlock really does have feathers there... Softly he runs his hand across my chest. I grit my teeth; I don't know how much more I can take of this. As though able to read my thoughts Sherlock slides slowly down my body. I shake a little with anticipation when he runs the tiwp of his tongue along the scales on my stomach and traces downwards. A violent shudder runs through me and I lose control of my form, shifting into an eight foot dragon. Sherlock doesn't appear fazed and smiles up at me when I growl and force myself to change back. "Sorry." I gasp, running a shaking hand across my forehead.

Sherlock doesn't reply and continues to trace the line of scales running along my skin. He pauses for a moment and grins up at me with a wicked gleam in his orange eyes before he bends his head back down, his tongue flicking out. A wave of pleasure floods through me and I let out a moan. Tangling my fingers in Sherlock's dark curls I try to pull him closer. Instead of reciprocating however Sherlock lets out a low snarl and pulls away, glaring at the closed door with a mixture of anger and fright.

"What's wrong?" I ask, swallowing hard when my voice breaks to get it back under control. "Sherlock?" I repeat when he continues to ignore me. Something has caught his attention but no matter how hard I strain my ears and listen I am unable to pick up what has so alarmed him.

Sherlock does not answer right away, instead he rises to his feet and stretches his wings to their full extent, causing them to burst into brilliant golden flames. His expression is a mixture of fear and uncertainty when he slowly turns to look at me. "John, we have a problem." He says with an audible shake present in his voice. "I think it would be best, for safety's sake, if we were both to shift into our true forms now." He continues before proceeding to do exactly that. Even as a phoenix fear is still written plainly across his face. Dread clutches at my heart; whatever is about to happen must be bad if Sherlock is so afraid of it.

Even though the last thing I want to do is stop what we were previously doing I reluctantly shift into a dragon. Before, probably because I had been preoccupied with dealing with Moriarty, I hadn't noticed how small the room was and now I curse loudly when I scrap my head spikes against the low roof. I hunch over so my neck is almost bent double. Hopefully we won't have to remain like this for long or I will have to shift back into human form. I growl under my breath when I painfully scrap the scales of my tail against the concrete of the wall. Sherlock glares at me to be quiet and I go to retort but freeze when my sensitive reptilian hearing picks up an peculiar, threatening sound from outside in the corridor.

"What is that?" I ask, eyeing the door and what might be beyond it with suspicion. I hear the sound again and clench my claws. It is unlike anything I have ever heard before; a cross between the crackling of a roaring log fire and and the dry rustling of autumn leaves underfoot. Whatever that thing outside is, it is some form of giant reptile and I don't want to come face to face with it anytime soon. "Sherlock, what the bloody hell is that?" I repeat, my voice rising to the point of hysteria.

Sherlock lets out a deep sigh and slowly raises his gaze to meet mine. I am startled at the intense fear shining from the normally calm blue eyes. I can't even remember the last time I saw Sherlock so emotional. "That person I kill; the one who kidnapped you and tried to turn me into his pet was not Moriarty. That thing outside the door is Moriarty." He explains, making a sweeping motion with his wings towards the door. "The magpie shape-shifter was a doppelganger, a lookalike, which the real Moriarty hired to work for him." He pauses for a moment when a loud hiss echoes from the corridor outside.

Stunned by what I am hearing I can do nothing but simply stare at Sherlock. "Who was the magpie shape-shifter then?" I ask, unsure how to process everything I am hearing. Ugh, I can feel a headache coming on. With a groan I massage my forehead with my fingertips. A sudden thought strikes me then and I look up at Sherlock sharply. "Please don't tell me that the real Moriarty is a shape-shifter too." I say pleadingly.

Sherlock opens his beak to reply only for a deep, sibilant hiss to cut him off. "I Sssmell your fear Sssherlock." Despite the voice's distortion I am still able to tell that it is Moriarty. "Why don't you come out and play?" Moriarty taunts, letting out a nasty sounding laugh.

As the sound of his voice fades away I clench my claws and let out a loud huff, expelling a stream of fire that licks across the floor and bathes the room in a bloody hue. "Oh really Moriarty, we're the scared ones?" I retort, ignoring Sherlock's protests for me to remain silent. "You don't even have the guts to meet us face to face."

Moriarty laughs. "Me scared? No, John Watson I am not scared." He hisses darkly. I realise then that taunting him was probably not my best idea ever. An eerie silence falls and I glance at Sherlock who grimaces at me in return. Before I can open my mouth to apologise for not listening to him the world around us fragments into a chaos of swirling dust and the roar of falling masonary as the roof and the wall surrounding the door collapse on top of us. Dimly I hear Moriarty laugh wildly and Sherlock shriek in pain before a large block of concrete strikes me on the side of my head. Despite my protective scales the block knocks me to the ground and I let out a groan of pain. Briefly the dust parts and I catch a glimpse of gleaming black scales before another blow to the head plunges me into darkness...


	4. Chapter 4

Clawing my way back to consciousness is a slow and painful process for my entire body is stiff like I have been lying in one position for much too long. I shift a little and wince when a stab of intense pain shoots through my head. For a moment I struggle to remember what actuallly happened; I can recall a confusion of dust but apart from that my memory is mostly blank, before managing to bring to mind the black scales I had briefly glimpsed. It didn't take someone of Sherlock's skill to work out that they belonged to Moriarty. Hesistantly, wary of the previous pain I'd experienced I open my eyes, biting back a groan when bright light sears into them. I close them again. Okay, so I won't be doing that again for a while. Frustrated at my new predicament I swear under my breath.

At the sound of my voice someone beside me stirs and I hear a rustle of feathers followed by a familiar voice. With a sigh (because of course Moriarty couldn't just have gotten me) I hear an all too familiar voice, "John, thank goodness you're awake! I was beginning to worry about you."

With some difficulty I turn my head from side to side, searching for Sherlock, but am unable to find him. "Sherlock, where are you?" I ask to try and quell the panic I feel when I try to raise myself to a sitting position but find myself unable to move. Apparently heavy chains or something of the like have been secured around me, pinning my wings against my back and basically rendering me helpless. Well, of course a dragon shape-shifter can never be completly at someones mercy. Taking a deep breath I exhale a stream of fire that scorches the carpet in front of my nose...wait, what? The last thing I remember is a small concrete room so how am I suddenly in a different place? Hastily, because I don't really want to burn the room down around me I cut off my fire.

Then from off to one side, further than I am able to see, I hear a unpleasant hissing laugh which makes the scales on my back stand on end. "Patience John Watson, everything will be clear to you soon." gloats the unmistakable voice of Moriarty. I strain my neck, trying to spot him and maybe even burn him but I am unable to move my head more than a few centimetres. I snarl to show my displeasure and I am surprised when Moriarty doesn't make a comment. Evidently he has grown bored with me already. "Now Sherlock, what on earth happened on the roof of the hospital? I mean sure my doppelganger was very convincing and had John as a hostage but surely you with your awesome powers of deduction should have been able to work out he was an imposter. I couldn't believe it when you went along with his little performance and actually allowed yourself to be injected with that ridiculous mind control drug. Why his entire plan was flawed from the start but your judgement was clouded by the danger dear John was in...I have to admit that it did turn out to be an interesting experiment." Moriarty sighs. "You have disappointed me Sherlock, though I am prepared to offer you a second chance if you choose to accept it."

I hear Sherlock make a quiet noise of disbelief. "Really Moriarty, a second chance?" I'm assuming it very likely has something to do with killing me." He says, a mocking tone in his voice. My attention at that moment however is taken away from the conversation between detective and criminal, as I finally realise why I am unable to stand. Holding me to the ground are a number of heavy chains draped across my body. I let out a quiet huff before a grin spreads across my face. Oh, and Moriarty thinks that he is so clever. Why the idiot should know fire and metal are the best of combinations for the hottest of flames are cabable of melting the majority of materials. Following this train of thought breaking the chains should, of course, be easy for a dragon.

Moriarty tuts loudly. "Dear me Sherlock, do you really think that I am so predictable? Who says I intend to kill you when John Watson is right here." He taunts, a faint hiss in his voice. Sherlock lets out a shriek of anger followed by the roar of a burning fire but I am unable to turn my head to see what is happening. I clench my fists and curse Moriarty. Damn him for making him helpless to do anything to help Sherlock. Well, technically I am not completly helpless. Closing my eyes I concentrate on pooling my internal fires (all dragons have them don't you know) to where the chains are resting against my scales, causing them to slowly heat up. In the last few minutes the chains have began to give a little, leaving me able to raise my head a little so I can at least start to make sense of our surroundings. I inhale sharply when I see where Moriarty has brought us. Nice to know that he has a sense of humour, even if it is rather twisted.

Moriarty has brought Sherlock and I back to 221B which is now in perfect condition after us having been away so long (probably Mycroft trying to be a good brother). I quickly however push that thought aside for a moment and look around for Sherlock, anxious to find out what might have happened to him. A gasp escapes me when my gaze finally falls on him. He is trapped beneath the clawed foot of an enormous black dragon who grins back at me; its yellow eyes alight with cruelty. As I continue to watch Moriarty's, I am assuming the dragon is him, head snakes down and he sinks his teeth into one of Sherlock's golden wings, biting down until there is a nasty sounding crunch. I wince at Sherlock's cry of pain and curse loudly. Shit, why did the real Moriarty have to be a mythical shape-shifter too? Why did things just keep getting more and more complicated?

Moriarty rears back, scarlet blood dripping from his teeth, and stares down at Sherlock. "Well, attacking me wasn't your greatest idea was it Sherlock? Sure you may be a Phoenix but that doesn't stop you feeling pain, it just means that you can't die. Which actually is going to make hurting you rather enjoyable." He laughs, his voice little more than a growl.

A shudder runs down my spine because Moriarty in his shape-shifter form is a creature from nightmare with his black, gleaming scales and his glowing green eyes. He easily towers above me because of how, just like a human, he stands on his hind legs and has tiny arms tipped with lethal looking claws. I have the feeling he will prove to be a formidable opponent. I test the chains again. This time they shift with a loud clank which makes me freeze. Surely Moriarty had to have heard that. After a few moments of nothing happening I raise my head to see that Moriarty is too busy torturing Sherlock to pay any attention to me. A grim smile spreads across my face as I slowly, my head still feels sore from being hit by a chunk of rubble, climb to my feet and turn to face the large, black dragon in front of me. As I straighten up my tail sweeps everything on the table onto the floor with a clatter. Moriarty still doesn't react. Clenching my clawed hands I prepare myself to attack.

With an ear-splitting roar I charge towards Moriarty spitting fire and flame. I feel a brief moment of regret at destroying the pristine flat, especially since Mycroft had probably gone to a lot of expense in order to get it back exactly how it was before, but then my gaze falls on Sherlock. Snarling loudly I jump up and sink my teeth into Moriarty's neck, cracking several of his scales. Moriarty screeches in pain and rears back, trying to shake me off but I hang on for dear life, digging my teeth in even deeper. What Moriarty does next takes me by surprise. Releasing Sherlock the consulting criminal throws himself backward and crushes me against the wall. He growls when I let go before raking his claws across the soft skin of my unprotected underbelly, the only part of a dragon not to have scales. Wrongfooted by how fast he was able to move despite his size I break away from Moriarty, moving across the room away from him, and eye him warily. Behind me Sherlock tries to rise to his feet but fails and collapses down to the floor as his wounds continue to heal.

Moriarty bares his blood stained fangs at me, snarls prompting small dribbles of green flame trickling from the corner of his jaws and half unfurls his wings so his vast bulk completly blocks my way to the door. "I am going to enjoy killing you John Watson." He hisses, a dark glint present in his yellow eyes. Without warning he lunges forward and rams into me, knocking the breath from my body and propelling me across the room. I smash into the wall, sending chips of plaster and glass from the picture frames hanging there flying. A nasty smirk lights up Moriarty's face briefly before he bites down into my neck. Pain crashes through me and an involuntary whimper escapes me when Moriarty sinks his teeth in deeper.

I reaalise then Moriarty is twice my strength and more powerful than I can ever hope to be. I won't be able to win this fight. A wave of sadness washes through me at the thought but I hastily push it aside. No, I will not just give up; I will continue to fight until all the breath is gone from my body.

Gritting my teeth I roar in pain and lash out with my claws, tearing into the thick armour plating protecting Moriarty's chest. Somehow, most likely through sheer desperation, I suceed in tearing a sizable hole in his black scales before he retaliates by releasing his grip on my neck and breathing a torrent of green fire into the wound. The pain is unlike anything I have ever felt before, flowing through me in a white hot wave which consumes everything in its path. I hear a terrible scream aand it takes several moments before I realise it's me. My vision blurs and I shift back into human form, curling up into a ball and trying to ignore the blood rapidly pooling around me. Violent shudders run through me body. Above me Moriarty smirks and takes a deep breath, preparing to incinerate me. Grimacing I close my eyes and prepare myself for what I am sure is the end.

A piercing shriek echoes through the room. Weakly I turn my head in time to see a blur of golden red appearing from nowhere and latching onto Moriarty, tearing into him with beak and talon. Moriarty staggers back against the onslaught, his tail whipping from side and side and sending a small table smashing into the opposite wall. While Moriarty is busy trying to stop Sherlock from pecking his eyes out I slowly crawl away from them into a corner, blood pouring from my wounds. I groan, gritting my teeth against the pain. Though mythical shape-shifters were able to heal quicker than normal shifters the amount of blood I was loosing could potentially be deadly. My strength fails me and I collapse, unable to move and helpless to do anything but watch as Moriarty swipes at Sherlock, sending him flying backwards into the wall before he turns his attention back to me. A nasty smirk spreads across his face and his green eyes gleam with hatred as he stares down at me. There is no point in pleading for my life, Moriarty is going to kill me no matter what I say. Before he can strike there is a gravelly, deep roar and the room goes dark as a massive creature blocks off the light.

Moriarty's reptilian features distort in a snarl. "Oh look Sherlock, here comes your older brother to save the day." He sneers, his head snaking round to stare distainfully at the large gargoyle hovering outside.

Intense pain shoots through my side and I cry out. Black spots dance at the edges off my vision and panic flows through me. "Sherlock.." I croak but that is all I manage to force out between gritted teeth before everything goes black and I know no more.

When I open my eyes again some time later the room is empty of Moriarty and yet another of the flat's windows are smashed. I close my eyes with a small wince. Mrs Hudson is not going to be pleased when she sees the lastest mess we have been partly responsible for creating. My train of thought is prevented from going any further when I become aware of someone gently stroking my hair. I open my eyes, curious to see what is going on. Hmm, if I am not mistaken I appear to be lying with my head on someone's lap. Slowly, acutely aware of the pain coursing through every nerve fibre, I move so I am able to see who is looking after me. My eyes meet Sherlock's ocean blue ones which are full of anxiety as he watches me intently. He smiles in relief when he sees I am awake. I attempt to raise myself slightly but the pain is too much; biting my lip I lower myself back down. Despite how much pain I am currently in it isn't actually as bad as what I was expecting. Carefully I probe the various places where Moriarty had left a mark. To my surprise many of them are partially healed, though from what I see of my shoulder wound when I turn my head to inspect it I am going to need to go to a hospital pretty soon. "Sherlock." I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry." Ignoring the pain I reach up and lightly stroke my hand across his cheek.

Sherlock frowns at me, a startled expression in his orange eyes. "There is no need for you to be sorry John. You were trying to stop Moriarty from hurting me." He says softly. The hand stroking my hair moves down to gently touch my wounded shoulder. I bite my lip, having to stop myself from cryifng out in pain. Sherlock hesistates, his blue eyes filling with sadness, before intertwining his hand in mine. "This might hurt a little John. Moriarty inflicted so much damage on you John." He says, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow in concentration.

It takes me a moment to realise what Sherlock is doing. Finally however it dawns on me when I feel damaged skin and muscle knitting back together, a sensation that at first was merely unplesant but it quickly escalated into white hot needles of pain that took my breath away. Gritting my teeth I tighten my hand around Sherlock's, which to my alarm goes slack as though he is struggling to remain upright. I hear Mycroft let out a huff of alarm followed by a shout, "Stop Sherlock! You're going to kill yourself!"

Sherlock gives his head a violent shake. "I need to stop John's internal bleeding first." He manages to gasp out. Alarm floods through me when I see how pale he is becoming and the warm glow usually shining from his skin has faded almost to nothing. Horror settles over me; oh god, he is using his life force to heal me.

"Please Sherlock, stop!" I plead. I try to tear myself away but he tightens his grip and holds me closer to him. "What will you achieve if you kill yourself healing me?" Sherlock ignores me completly and stares off into the distance. "For gods sake Sherlock, do you think I could live a happy life knowing what you sacrificed for me!? I love you Sherlock...I couldn't live without you." I cry, my voice breaking as I bury my head in my hands. My last exclamation manages to get through to Sherlock and he lowers his hand slowly from my shoulder, swaying like he is on the brink of collapse. Not caring that I am not fully healed I ease myself up and turn to face him. His face is white as a sheet with a sickly green tinge. My heart swells with affection and I lean forward to press my lips tenderly against his, not caring when Mycroft coughed and politely turned away. Sherlock's lips are soft and warm on mine but the kiss doesn't last for long because Sherlock draws back with a gasp and a moan of pain. I wrap my arms around him, comforting him. "Sssh it's okay. It's all over now, Moriarty's gone." I murmur in his ear. A sudden thought strikes me and I glance over at Mycroft who is looking faintly embaressed. "What happened to Moriarty anyway?"

Mycroft shrugs and I wince when his stone limbs grate together with a screech. "He bolted as soon as he lay eyes on me." He says, pointing towards the smashed window and heaving himself to his feet. "Anyway Lestrade should be here soon to make sure he doesn't come back, I need to get both of you to a hospital."

The news that Lestrade is coming sends Sherlock into a panic. "No Lestrade can't come here." He shouts, apparently horrified Mycroft could even have made such a suggestion. "That's what Moriarty wants, he is the last peice in Moriarty's puzzle." He rolls his eyes when I stare at him confused as to what he means. "I just worked it all out! This whole time Moriarty has been working on an elaborate plan from the moment he kidnapped John and now he is close to being it to fruitation!" He crys, his eyes wide and frantic. I stroke a curl of black hair away from his eyes and rest my forehead on his. After everything we have been through at Moriarty's hands it doesn't take much to persuade me he is telling the truth-though I have the feeling Mycroft will need something more before he is able to believe his brother. It doesn't come as a shock then when Mycroft shakes his head looking skeptical.

"What exactly is Moriarty's plan little Brother?" He asks, his tone unbelieving. Mycroft shakes his head and stares at Sherlock with his unsettling blank grey eyes. Sherlock goes to reply but instead lets out a long breath and collapses back against me. I am startled by how cold his skin feels, almost like ice. Mycroft frowns and quickly pads towards us, his expression concerned. "Moriarty is no longer here Sherlock and even if he was I wouldn't let him hurt you." He explains in a slow voice as though speaking to a child. "I need to get you to a hospital Sherlock; somewhere you can rest and heal undisturbed."

Sherlock sighs and closes his eyes. "Do what you will Mycroft." He says, going limp as he surrenders himself to the bliss of unconsciousness. I smile at the serene expression on his face and plant a gentle kiss on his forehead before looking up at Mycroft. He is now looming over the two of us and actually, though I would never admit it to him, is rather forboding when you see him up close. With a huge stone paw he indicates I should climp up onto his back. I obey, reluctantly leaving Sherlock, and pull myself up using cracks in his stone skin. He waits for me to settle into the hollow at the base of his neck then carefully, tenderly picks up Sherlock and cradles him to his chest. Then with heavy footsteps which shake the flat Mycroft thumps over to the window and hauls himself out, clumsily opening his wings and flapping them to get airborne.

Before he rises above the rooftops of London I glance down at the street and notice two figures lurking in the shadows beneath a streetlight. One of them is Moriarty, his black scales gleaming like sunlight on a oil spill, and the other is a tall man wearing a well tailored suit and a top hat which obscures his face. As the man turns his head I swear I see a flash which reminds me of light reflecting off a pair of glasses. I spot something else then which sends a trickle of cold dread down the back of my neck. Why is Moriarty wearing a collar? The sight is so disturbing that I grip the spike in front of my tightly and lean forward to yell in Mycroft's ear. "Mycroft, do you know who that guy down there is?"

Mycroft pauses, hovering in place as he squints down towards where I am pointing. When he next speaks he sounds confused. "There's no one there John. Are you sure you saw something?" He asks, obviously assuming I am hallucinating. Shaking his stone head he soars up into the sky until the rooftops below us are tiny dark blobs. "Hang on." He says, banking left in the direction of the nearest hospital to Baker Street.

Without warning pain shoots through my shoulder followed by a warm trickle of what I assume to be blood. I swear under my breath. Damn, though Sherlock partially healed my shoulder it is evidently very far from okay. I hug my arm to chest, leaving me with only one in order to hang on. After a few moments of struggling to stay upright I feel myself slip sideways and let out a yell of fright when I find myself staring straight down at the ground far below and the dim shape following us. In my panic I dismiss it-because after all who possibly could control the world's only consulting criminal and the one person who almost beat Sherlock. It takes an immense effort to haul myself upright and when I am finally seated again I rest my head against the cold stone of Mycroft's neck and gasp for breath. The blood pumping from my shoulder is soaking into my already stained shirt and pinpricks of darkness dance at the edges of my vision. I groan loudly.

Mycroft glances back at me, his eyes widening when he sees the condition I am in. "John, are you alright? John?" His voice rises when I don't reply. "John! Oh god, hang on...we're almost there." He cries, tucking his wings back and diving down.

I am barely aware of the cold wind howling past or the ground rushing up to meet us as Mycroft prepares to land. Instead the world around me is dissolving; melting away into a thick, heavy blackness into which I am grateful to surrender myself. After that there is nothing but emptyness.


	5. Chapter 5

It didn't take long for Sherlock to recover since all he needed was a good rest and something to eat. It also helped that he was undisturbed by nurses and doctors after Mycroft had told him that his brother technically didn't need any real medical attention. John on the other hand was a different story. As soon as Mycroft had landed and knelt down so John could be lifted from his back he was rushed into surgery where frantic surgeons worked non-stop for three hours to stop the internal bleeding and remove some of the burnt flesh. John was currently in the intensive care unit surrounded by tubes and beeping machines, seperated from Sherlock while he healed. It had taken quite a bit of persuasion to stop Sherlock from sleeping beside John. To set him at ease Mycroft had been forced to agree to lay outside John's room in gargolye form, despite the complaints from those who had to step over him, to set Sherlock's mind at rest. Lestrade had also agreed to protect John. As a result Sherlock was in a room completely on his own because everyone had figured a phoenix shape-shifter was able to take care of himself.

Sherlock was regretting the desicion now as he stared at the figure standing in the doorway of his room. "Well I suppose you had better come in hadn't you." He said, his orange eyes intent. "After all I was wondering when you were going to turn up Moriarty."

Moriarty was silent as he walked towards the bed in human form. He didn't look quite as sure as he usually did for now he walked with a limp and his immaculate clothes were filthy. Though Moriarty's head was bent Sherlock was able to see the black leather collar around the consulting criminal's neck. Sherlock frowned, confused. These past few months had just been getting steadily more and more out of control.

Moriarty hissed and bared teeth with sharp points. "I wouldn't be quite so cocky if I were you Sherlock." Reaching up he scratched at the collar and made a small noise of frustration.

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "What do you want this time? Let me guess, you have either come to threaten John again or you are here to beg me to be your little pet again." He pauses and a sly expression settled on his face. "Though by the looks of it you are already someones pet." Sherlock said, glaring at Moriarty. If he dared to lay a finger on John he would attack.

Moriarty's answer however never came because instead a harsh, grating voice echoed from the doorway of the room. "You are almost correct Sherlock but there is one very important detail you got wrong. You see it was never Moriarty's intention to make you his pet-it was mine. I was just using him to see how you would react to the idea."

Sherlock tensed and flexed his shoulders. In reponse to the movement his wings emerged with a whoosh and spread out behind him, the golden red feathers igniting with a fierce fire. He looked over at Moriarty and was shocked to see that the consulting criminal looked scared. Sherlock's eyes were drawn back to the collar and his mind began to whir, putting together all the peices. "Obviously, whoever you are, you have a degree of control over Moriarty. What I don't understand however is who you are or what you want with me." Sherlock said, keeping his eyes fixed on the door. For a moment his thoughts went to John but he relaxed when he remembered that his brother and Lestrade were on guard. Because his mind was elsewhere it was several moments before he realised there was another person in the room.

At first sight you could be mistaken for thinking the person was nothing more than a shadow until they stepped forward, revealing themselves to be a tall man dressed in a black suit with the brim of the top hat they were wearing obscuring their face. In one hand he carried a cane which he swung at Moriarty, catching him in the back of the knees. Moriarty snarled quietly but otherwise but didn't say anything. Slowly the man approached Sherlock, stopping a few metres away. For a moment there was silence but then the man swept off his hat and sank into a low bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you again Sherlock Holmes, I have wanted to do this for a long time." The man said as he straightened back up, allowing Sherlock a glimpse of the scars disfiguring the left side of his face. He smiled a lopsided smile when Sherlock gasped. "Maybe you recognise me Mr Holmes because, after all, it was your fire that burned me."

Oh Sherlock recognised him alright and shocked realisation dawned on his face. "H-how did you survive?" He stuttered, unable to believe his eyes at this spectre returned from the dead. His eyes flicked towards the door. Maybe if he was quick enough he would be able to escape.

The man standing in the doorway rolled his eyes at the detective's ignorance and guestured for Moriarty to shift into dragon form and block the door. Once he was satisfied no one was getting in or out he turned his attention back to Sherlock. "Now Mr Holmes, why don't we get down to business." He said, leaning in his cane. "Because unlike my pet here and his pathetic mind control serum I have a much more persuasive proposal for you."

Sherlock clenched his fists, barely managing to stop himself from lunging at the man before him. The last time he had come up against him it had almost killed him and, so Sherlock had believed, destroyed the person now standing before him. A shiver ran down his spine. "I will never help you Magnassum." Sherlock said, his voice hard. Flinging aside the bed sheets Sherlock stood, his golden wings stretching out behind him and touching the ceiling.

Charles Augustus Magnassum glared at Sherlock with hatred, he also was remembering the last time they had met. "You should be careful how you address me Mr Holmes because I know your pressure point." He hissed, his disfigured face distorting in anger. He paused and took several deep breathes in order to calm himself down. "Now my proposal is simple, I would like a companion to help me as I carry out my lastest plans. Moriarty is an alright pet but he doesn't have any spirit or freewill after I broke him in a little too well...anyway I require someone smart who is able to think on their feet. You Sherlock would fit the bill rather nicely and of course there would be certain-benifits. So what do you say My Holmes, will you join me?"

Sherlock crossed his arms. "I still say no Magnassum and nothing you can do will make me change my mind." He said sharply, his eyes flicking towards the door again. Maybe if he attacked without warning he'd be able to overpower Moriarty...

Instead of being angry a nasty grin spread across Magnassum's face. "Bad desicion Mr Holmes." He said before he spun on his heel to face Moriarty. "I think you should pay a little visit to John Watson." He informed the dragon who nodded in response and flexed his claws as though eager to shed blood.

Gritting his teeth Sherlock cursed under his breath. Damn, he had forgotten how good Magnassum was at manipulating people. Sherlock clicked his fingers, summoning a fireball, and prepared to throw it at the person who he'd already burnt once. "Leave John out of this, he's been through enough." He snapped, his orange eyes glowing with a fierce light. He hissed when Magnassum took a step towards him. "Come any closer and I will kill you."

Magnassum shook his head. "Oh I don't doubt that Mr Holmes but you didn't exactly have much success last time did you?" He said with a small shrug. "Agree to join me or I will take great pleasure in personally killing John Watson." Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but Magnassum cut him off. "And no your big brother won't be able to stop Moriarty because he is only a gargoyle and stone can easily be smashed."

A feeling of despair swept through Sherlock and he hung his head in defeat. He didn't have any idea how he could win this time, not with John and Mycroft's lives on the line. He sighed deeply before replying. "If I agree to join you will you leave John alone and promise not to hurt him?" He asked, all the fight gone from him.

A smirk spread across Magnassum's face as he watched Sherlock close his fingers around his fireball aand extinguish it. At last he had finally managed to defeat the great detective. It was going to be great to have such a powerful shape-shifter by his side. Why, with Sherlock under his command, all of London would be forced to surrender to him. "Of course Mr Holmes, you have my word." Behind him he heard a quiet snigger from Moriarty and glared aat him until he shut up. "Will you be leaving with us now or do you wish to say goodbye to your loved ones?" Magnassum taunted, no longer afraid of what Sherlock could do to him.

"At least let me say goodbye." Sherlock said with a sigh, his gaze drifting towards the door. A slight smile appeared on his face but he hastily composed his face again into a serious expression before Magnassum could see it.

Though neither Moriarty or Magnassum were aware of them Lestrade and a number of his officers were waiting outside the door to make their move, tipped off when Sherlock had pressed the call button on his mobile, alerting Lestrade to the fact that something was wrong. After everything that had happened of course they weren't going to leave Sherlock completly unprotected. Lestrade motioned at one of his officers and pointed in Moriarty's direction. The officer nodded in acknowledgment, swallowed nervously and edged forward with a syringe of strong tranquilizer clutched in one hand. In order to put Moriarty down in dragon form the officer faced the daunting task of walking around and plunging the syringe into Moriarty's soft underbelly. Muttering a quiet prayer under his breath the officer lunged forward and jabbed the needle into Moriarty. The dragon roared in anger and spat out a torrent of fire which narrowly missed the officer as he threw himself to one side. To Lestrade's relief it didn't take long for the transquilzer to work and before a minute was out Moriarty was lying on the floor, fast asleep.

When he heard the thud of Moriarty hitting the floor Magnassum spun round with a hiss, baring his teeth when he saw Lestrade and his officers behind him. Rage gleaming from his eyes he rounded on Sherlock. "Damn you Mr Holmes, I should have known you'd have another trick up your sleeve." He snarled, cramming his top hat back onto his head and angling the brim so it concealed his scarred face once more. Before turning to Lestrade Magnassum hastily composed his face into a calm expression. "Hello Greg Lestrade, how nice of you to turn up." He said mockingly, holding out his hands so Lestrade could snap a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. Over by the door two officers argued about how they were going to get the the unconscious Moriarty through the small door. As he was being lead away by an officer Magnassum grinned back over his shoulder. "We shall meet again Mr Holmes."

Once he was gone Lestrade hurried to Sherlock's side, his eyes scanning the detective for any sign of injury. Though he looked relatively okay he knew that Sherlock was rather good at hiding pain. "Are you okay? Did Magnassum do anything?" He asked earnestly, playing the small black box in his pocket given to him by Mycroft with strict instructions to hand it to Sherlock with the words, "For when you need it."

Sherlock ignored his question and started to bombade him with ones of his own. "How is John? Is Mycroft still guarding him? Are his wounds healing?" He asked. "Can I go and see him?" He demanded, not caring how frantic he was sounding.

A gentle smile settled over Lestrade's face. "When I received your call John had just started to wake up and had already begun to ask for you." He explained before pulling the box out of his pocket and handing it over. "A present from Mycroft." He said in reply to Sherlock's questioning look. Sherlock cracked the box open and smiled when he saw what was inside. His brother knew him well. He nodded at Lestrade and stored the box safetly in his pocket for when he finally saw John again. Lestrade turned towards the door. "Come on I'll take you to John. Oh and by the way I would lose the wings. The medical staff are very particular about shed feathers, fur and scales destroying the sterile conditions of their wards."

There was a spring in Sherlock's step as he followed Lestrade down the corridor towards the lift. At last, with Moriarty and Magnassum out of the picture, he and John would finally be safe. Throughout the journey in the lift and the subsequent walk down another corridor identical to the first one Sherlock fingered the black box in his pocket, rolling it over and over, while he imagined the expression on John's face. When they finally reached the room where John was being treated it took everything Sherlock had not to simply rush forward and blurt the news out right away. Somehow, with a little help from Lestrade and the glare he shot in Sherlock's direction, he managed to contain himself, calmly stepping over a sleeping Mycroft. Inside the room John was sitting up in bed reading the paper and Sherlock paused for a moment in the doorway, watching his friend frown as he turned over a page with a faint rustling sound. Lestrade hung back, realising that the reunion was for John and Sherlock alone.

John glanced up when he heard footsteps approaching the bed, a wide grin spreading across his face when he saw Sherlock walking towards him. Folding the paperr he laid it on the table beside his bed, wincing a little when the movement pulled at his stitches. For a moment the two of them stared at one another, both relieved that the other was okay, and then Sherlock slowly, almost hesistantly, moved forward and perched on the edge of the bed.

"How are you Sherlock?" John asked, reaching out to place a hand on Sherlock's arm.

Sherlock sighed and took both of John's hands in his. "You know it should be me asking you that. I'm the one with the magical healing abilities." He murmured, leaning forward to place a light kiss on John's forehead just above the small cut he had gained in the fight against Moriarty. Sherlock closed his eyes. Poor John, though he was trying to hide it he was able to tell that he was still in quite a lot of pain. Even though he knew John would hate it he began to channel a small peice of his life force into his friend in order to heal the small wounds and aches he hadn't been able to before. He felt John try to pull away but simply gripped his hands harder.

"What are you doing?" John demanded, sounding anxious. He didn't want Sherlock to heal him comepletly because that was the whole point of Mycroft bringing them to the hospital. All Sherlock was doing was using up precious strength that he himself would need. "Please don't do this Sherlock. I'm fine, the doctors are taking good care of me." He protested, finally managing to pull his grip from Sherlock's. He glanced up briefly, saw the complicated expression in Sherlock's eyes and decided it was best to change the subject. "Anyway, what took you so long to visit. I've been waiting for you to turn up."

Nervously Sherlock cleared his throat and closed his eyes. Should he tell John about Magnassum's visit or would it be kinder to keep me in the dark? When he opened his eyes again John was staring at him intently with a searching, curious expression on his face as he waited for Sherlock to answer him. Sherlock decided that it was probably best not to place such a burden on his friend's shoulder until he was healed. Desicion made, he ignored John's previous question and reached forward to gently part the bandage stretching from around John's shoulder. He felt John shiver beneath his touch but paid him no attention. He was more concerned in finding out what condition his friend was in after his second attempt to heal him had been rejected. To his relief the gaping wound with its blackened, burnt edges was now little more than a rather nasty looking scar which would eventually heal away to nothing. He pulled his hand away and looked up at John with a smile. "How are you feeling now?" He asked.

John returned his smile and placed his hand on Sherlock's cheek, swallowing back the sudden wave of emotion which was threatening to engulf him. "I'm fine thanks to you healing me." He said, a playful tone in his voice. A moment later his face twists sharply, becoming more serious. "Next time I'm injured though please don't try and kill yourself okay? I don't know what I would do without you Sherlock- you're everything to me."

Sherlock looked sheepish for a moment before he relaxed into John's touch, savouring the warmth. "I am so sorry John." He murmured softly, shifting a little so he was able to look John in the eye. "I promise you now that as long as we both shall live I will never needlessly endanger your life again or try to heal you beyond what it is my ability to give." He said, his voice low and intense. Again his hand stroked the velvet box in his pocket and he smiled. Now was as good a time as any to give it to John. Sherlock took a deep breath and quickly, before he could bottle out, pulled the box from his pocket and held it up. He tried to speak but found himself suddenly speechless.

John frowned at him. He could tell Sherlock was eager to tell him something but was unable to work out exactly what it was despite the small box Sherlock was holding up for his inspection. "Are you okay Sherlock? You're acting strangely today." He said, leaning forward slightly to look Sherlock in the eye. Confusion flooded through him when the detective hastily looked away from him. What had gotten into Sherlock today?

Sherlock licked his lips. Now the moment had come intense nerves washed through him, almost paralysing him. What, even after everything they had been through, John rejected him? No, he was just being ridiculous. He loved John and from several intimate moments he knew that John felt the same about him. Taking a deep breath to calm himself Sherlock flipped open the box and presented the contents to John who gasped quietly and glanced up in shock. The ring was simple but elegant with a single cut diamond surrounded by six tiny deep blue sapphires and glittered brightly under the artificial lights of the hospital room. A smile spread across Sherlock's face when he saw the twin expressions of increduality and joyful surprise spreading across John's face. Technically he should be down on one knee but he didn't want to leave John's side even for a moment. "John, will you marry me?" Sherlock asked, his voice hopeful.

Tears of joy welled in John's eyes. "Yes...yes!" He cried, flinging his arms around Sherlock's neck and kissing him roughly.

The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched up in a smile as he returned the kiss for a moment before gently disentangling himself. Then taking John's hand he carefully slid the ring onto his left ring finger. "John, you have just made me the happiest person in the world." He said, his eyes shining. From behind them came the sound of loud applause. Sherlock jumped and spun round, his eyes glowing orange for a moment, but he relaxed when he saw it was only Lestrade and Mycroft and a wide grin spread across his face. Satisfied that there were no more villians or enemies around Sherlock leant down to press his lips to John's, his soon-to-be husband. The thought sent a thrill running through his body and, unable to control himself completly, his wings materialised and curved around John, enfolding him and John in a golden feathery embrace.

Safe and warm in Sherlock's arms John relaxed and allowed the tension of the past few days to flow away. Finally he and Sherlock were safe from harm now Moriarty was gone. John sighed in contentment; he had the feeling that from now on life was going to be a lot better.

The End

**Technically not the end because I am working on a bonus chapter featuring the wedding. Hope to have that written up by the 7th. Hope you have enjoyed the Heart of the Phoenix because I have certaintly enjoyed writing it. **


	6. Bonus chapter: the wedding

I still can not believe that the big day is finally upon us, the day when Sherlock and I will pledge to spend the rest of our lives together. I pause for a moment and look into the mirror, marvelling at how today I must be the luckiest man alive. Excitement floods through me and for a heartbeat I loose control of my form and find a dragon staring back at me from the mirror. Whoops, I'll have to try not to do that during the ceromony or I'll alarm the few non shape-shifters who are coming. Breathing steadily a few times to calm myself I shift back into human form and finish knotting my tie about my neck. There, I'm ready and there is still half an hour to go... I don't know if I'll be able to wait that long.

I begin to pace, a dreamy smile spreading across my face as my thoughts settle on Sherlock. Right at this moment he is probably doing the same things I am; getting ready and eagerly anticipating what is to come. Despite my previous feeling of calm nerves flutter in my stomach and not even breathing exercises are enough to get rid of them this time. I'm not surprised that the nerves are kicking in now considering the sheer amount of people who will be attending the wedding. At first Sherlock and I had intended to have a small, intimate wedding with only our closest friends in attendance but then Mycroft had gotten involved and suddenly our plans had escalated from a registary office into a woodland clearing with over four hundred shape-shifters on the guest list. Apparently, according to Mycroft anyway, shape-shifters loved a good party and would be highly offended if they weren't invited. Originally we had tried to protest but eventually had realised that it was best to just leave him to it. I was beginning to regret not even having a little say in mine and Sherlock's wedding day when I looked out of the window and saw the constant stream of creatures pouring into the wood with Lestrade, Mrs Hudson and Molly following a few steps behind them. Swallowing I turn away from the window and gaze into the mirror again. True to wedding tradition (amongst the shape-shifter community) I was wearing a suit which reflected the creature I was able to shift into and the red scales sewn into the material glitter every time they catch the light. I don't know what Sherlock's suit is like because I haven't seen him since yesterday morning, another shape-shifter wedding tradition which I didn't agree to, and I won't lay eyes on him again until I walk down the aisle. A thrill of excitement runs through me and I am unable to stop a wide grin from spreading across my face. I glance at my watch and groan under my breath when I see there is still fifteen minutes to go. I begin to pace again.

After what feels like hours but is probably only minutes I hear a gentle knock on the door followed by it swinging open to reveal Lestrade standing outside the cabin. "It's time." He says with a smile. "Are you ready?"

In answer I simply nod, not trusting myself to speak through the lump in my throat, and follow him into the woods where we follow the laid out path into silence. To give Mycroft credit he has done a great job with the decorations. Certaintly the path Lestrade and I are walking along is suitably festive with its garlands of meadow flowers and the strings of multicoloured lights which have been threaded through the branches of the trees. The deeper we head into the wood the more I become aware of the merrily chatting voices of the congregation and the discordent buzz of the band tuning their instruments. Nerves hit me again and my hands shake as I continue to walk forward beside Lestrade. As though sensing how I am feeling he glances over at me and gives me a small smile. I shake my head, why was being like this this was the happiest day of my life. When the clearing comes into sight a tawny owl dives down from a nearby branch, hovers before me in mid-air and dips its head in greeting, its bright yellow eyes gleaming.

"Good you're here, everyone is just finishing getting into position. If you would just wait here a moment." The owl says before angling its brown and black flecked wings and flying back into the clearing. I hear its voice drift back towards us. "Attention ladies and gentlemen, would you please all rise for John Hamish Watson."

"I think thats your cue." Lestrade says, leaning over to mutter in my ear. Briefly he lays a hand on my shoulder and smiles at me. "Good luck."

I quietly thank him and then take a deep breath and step into the clearing, hardly able to believe that the moment was finally upon me. Despite telling myself not to be nervous I have to force myself to walk forward down the aisle between the assembled creatures, trying not to meet anyones eyes. Instead I turn my attention to my surroundings. Despite the elaborateness of Mycroft's plans he has still managed to incorperate some of the simplicity Sherlock and I had originally wanted. At the very centre of the clearing is a raised podium decorated with garlands of golden roses which almost exactly match the colour of Sherlock's wings. Sherlock... The moment my eyes meet his everything else, the clearing and the assembled shape-shifters, fades away into the background until he is the only thing I am able to see. Sherlock's eyes shine with happiness when he sees me walking towards him and I am sure I am probably wearing a similiar expression. He is dressed in an elegant suit covered with golden red feathers which burn with a orange light. I know right then that the sight will stay with me until the day I die. Reaching into the pocket of my trousers I grip the ring I'll soon be slipping onto Sherlock's fingers before stepping up onto the podium beside Sherlock. His smile becomes wider and he reaches forward to stroke my cheek.

"You look rather dashing in a suit John, maybe you should wear one more often." Sherlock says softly so only I am able to hear him.

A shiver runs through me at his touch and I let out a quiet sigh. Before I am able to reply to him though the official overseeing the ceromony, an elderly chinese dragon with irresdescent green scales, clears his throat and asks for everyone to be seated. Then he turns us, smiles and begins. "Ladies, Gentlemen and assorted shape-shifters we are gathered here today to witness the joining of the dragon shape-shifter John Watson to the phoenix shape-shifter Sherlock Holmes."

From behind us within the congregation I hear a loud sniff followed by a quiet, hastily stifled sob. Curious I glance behind me to see Mrs Hudson pressing a tissue to her face in order to hide her tears. I smile to myself before turning back to the official who is now asking if anyone knows a reason why I and Sherlock should not be married. Of course no one speaks up and the official nods towards Sherlock. He takes a deep breath, his eyes fixed on mine, and takes my hands in his.

"I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, William Sherlock Scott Holmes may not be joined in matrimony to John Hamish Watson." Sherlock says, briefly letting go of one of my hands to pull a ring from his pocket. "I give you this ring as a symbol of our marriage and as a token of my love." He continues as he gently slides the ring onto my finger. My heart flutters in my chest. "I call upon these persons here present to witness that, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, do take thee, John Hamish Watson, to be my lawful wedded husband." Sherlock finishes in a voice which is barely above a murmur, his eyes gleaming with love.

Now it is my turn. "I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, John Hamish Watson may not be joined in matrimony to William Sherlock Scott Holmes." I pause to take the ring out of my pocket and take a deep breath before I feel able to continue. After all it would embaressing if anyone heard the shake I am desperatly trying to keep out of my voice. "I give you this ring as a symbol of our marriage and as a token of my love. I call upon the persons present to witness that i, John Hamish Watson, do take you, Sherlock Holmes, to be my lawful wedded husband."

Quite a few of the congregation sound as though they are crying now but I don't really pay them any attention. My entire being is fixed on Sherlock who is smiling down at me with an awestruck expression. Evidently I am not the only hardly able to believe that today is actually happening. The official clears his throat and announces grandly,"I now pronounce you partners for life."

Behind us the congregation burst into applause but Sherlock and I hardly notice them. Instead we are gazing into each others eyes, hardly able to believe that after everything we have gone through we finally have one another for the rest of our lives. Sherlock leans down and I rise up on tiptoe to eagerly press my lips to his. I feel his arms move to cradle my head and pull me closer to him, deepening the kiss as he does so. I smile at how right it feels, my body neatly fitting against his. Right now I am the happiest and luckiest shape-shifter alive and I look forward to spending the rest of my life with Sherlock.

The End


End file.
